Fate's Trap
by Irene Garza
Summary: When Hermione hears a muggle fortuneteller's fair prophecy about her love life, she couldn't believe on it; until Draco Malfoy appeared at her door. Intrigued, she starts a research to unravel Draco's secret: they both had share their lives before, life after life. ¿Are they soulmates?¿Or everything is a fate's trap? DM/HG EWE
1. The Fortune Teller

**DISCLAIMER: THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY BELONG TO THE WONDERFUL J. K. ROWLING, AS IS THE UNIVERSE IN WHICH THE STORY IS DEVELOPED.**

_A/N: Hello. This story had been translated from its original language. If you want to read it in spanish go to search "Atrapados por el Destino" in my profile. I will try to put both stories together with same time actualizations, but it may take a couple weeks to do so._

_I want to thank **Elthanin Adhara Black** for her first check to the story, and **Seakays** for her enormous support betaing the grammar of this chapter, she did a great job because I'm a mess!_

_Feel free to comment anything you want, I love to read your impressions about the story. Thank You for reading! _

**.**

**Fate's Trap**

Chapter 1. The Fortune Teller

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Limping into the dining room, Hermione inadvertently smacked her hip into the corner of her table. The beautiful floral vase that sat on top tilted precariously for a few seconds before it crashed to the floor scattering thousands of tiny tinted glass fragments all over the small room.

Hermione did not have time to stop it, since with one hand she was holding one of her shoes, and with the other she was juggling her bag and wireless phone. While she truly wanted to release a couple of loud and creative curses, she had to settle for a quiet mutter as she held her toothbrush between her lips. She groped for the wand she usually kept in the pocket of her trousers, but it wasn't there. She sighed resignedly and headed to the kitchen_, what a witch __she was becoming__ if she had to end up doing everything like a muggle_. After spitting the toothpaste into the sink, accommodating everything she was carrying, Hermione took one last look to confirm all was in order, and then went to search for her wand

Just as she left her bedroom, wand in hand, the doorbell rang insistently. They had already arrived!

As Hermione went down the narrow corridor that linked the dining room with her bedroom, she pointed her wand at the remains of the vase, and muttered a quiet repair charm that rebuilt the broken porcelain, almost like watching a movie in reverse. She reached the door and hid her wand in her pocket as she opened the door with a wide smile on her face.

"Aunt Hermione!"

A small five-year-old boy pounced on her with such vigor that she over corrected trying to catch him, and fell to the floor. The boy was small for his age, and his tender brown eyes had a constant glow of curiosity. His childish face was crowned with unruly brown hair that was a clear indication that he was a Granger.

Laughing, Hermione hugged her nephew tightly.

"Well hello there, my little troublemaker, how are you?"

"Great! I just finished the game you gave me for Christmas. The monster killed me, and killed me, but then I grabbed one of the fire flowers, those dancing red ones and threw the fire bullets-"

At some point in the child's soliloquy, Hermione turned to see the woman who accompanied him, trying to communicate to her with a look that she had no idea what her nephew was telling her.

"Sebastian, let your aunt get up." The woman held out a hand to Hermione and helped her up. "Hi Hermione, you don't know how much I appreciate what you're doing for me"

"Don't mention it, Lis, you know how much I love this little terror."

Sebastian entered his Aunt's apartment, removed his backpack from his shoulders, and took out all his toys, carefully arranging them on the living room table. In a few minutes, Hermione's small home had become a full-fledged battlefield zone.

"Please, let me know if you need anything, I have my phone with me. And, if you want to survive the day, I strongly recommend you don't allow him to sleep after eleven o'clock tonight."

"Don't worry Lis, we'll have a great time."

Hermione's cousin, Lisbeth Granger, was the only child of her father's only brother, which made the woman her only cousin, and her best childhood friend. Like the rest of her family, Lis was Muggle, and was completely unaware of her cousin's magical nature. When they were girls, anyone who looked at them would swear they were sisters, since their physical appearance was so similar. They still looked very similar, but Lisbeth was an inch taller than Hermione and the shade of her eyes was a deeper brown. Lis was currently an attorney at a prestigious law firm, but even with that demanding job, she always found time to see her dearest cousin.

Last week she had asked Hermione to stay with Sebastian for the weekend, since both her husband Charles and herself had to leave the city for a couple of days to attend an important business meeting.

"Sebastian, I have to run now. Come and give mom a hug."

The boy approached his mother, hugged her tightly, kissed her tenderly, and then returned to play. "Promise me you're not going to get in trouble."

"I promise, Mommy," the boy said solemnly, while one of his planes flew until it crashed into the living room cushions.

Hermione smiled at her nephew. "But of course he will behave, won't you, Sebastian? Good boys who behave well, receive rewards…"

Sebastian's eyes blew wide with excitement. "A reward? Which reward?!"

Hermione approached her nephew, hugged him from behind, and smiled at her cousin.

"What do you think, Lis? If Sebastian properly behaves all day, I will take him to the fair at night.

"Oh yes!" The boy shouted delightedly as he ran around the living room table, with his little arms extended as wings.

"I think it's an excellent idea." Lis approached her cousin to kiss her cheek. "You are an angel, Hermione. Thank you so much for everything."

"Be careful, Lis, and call me as soon as you arrive." 

oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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There were flickering lights shining, and the laughter and screams of the children were heard all over the place, mingling with the monotonous tone of the fair's attractions.

Sebastian bounced happily on his feet, clinging to his aunt's hand, while eating cotton candy.

"It was so cool! I wasn't afraid at all, can we get on again?"

"But Sebastian, don't you want to go see the rest of the games?"

"Owww," the boy said with resignation. "Fine-"

A beautiful carrousel spun, all colors and sparkles at the end of the corridor where they had wandered. The little boy smiled delightedly, apparently forgetting that the last game had had played had been the most incredible of all time.

"I want to get on! Can I get on it, aunt Hermione? May l?!"

"Sure, come on."

The young woman in charge of the attraction let Sebastian onto the ride. He immediately ran to choose a beautiful white horse. The attendant carefully put the child on the wooden horse and secured him, while the rest of the children settled into their places. Hermione stayed outside the fence surrounding the attraction, and laughed delightedly at her nephew's huge smile as the carrousel came alive, and began to spin to the rhythm of the music. While the ride continued, Hermione glanced at the other stalls that were in proximity to the stall. One in particular caught her attention. An old woman, dressed in a turban and countless beaded necklaces, was sitting in front of a small table. It was covered with a red tablecloth that had golden fringes and tassels. A huge crystal ball was positioned dead centre. The lady was staring at her, with the sweetest smile on her lips.

"Come closer, young lady. Don't you want to know your fortune?"

Hermione smiled back politely, but shook her head.

"Thank you very much, ma'am, but I don't believe in fortune." She felt like giving her eternal speech about the lack of accuracy of divination as a magical science, but she remained silent, since she was facing a Muggle.

The lady nodded without losing her smile.

"That's because you've never had a real fortune teller in front of you, gorgeous."

Remembering Professor Trelawney, Hermione could only nod in agreement.

"Come on, my girl, let me see your hand." The old woman rose from the table and walked slowly and painfully to reach her. Once the lady stood in front of her, Hermione held out her hand because she felt sorry for the sweet old woman. After all, how much damage could it cause? Surely this woman wouldn't be any worse than any of Professor Trelawney's macabre predictions.

The fortuneteller gently extended Hermione's hand, and ran her arthritic finger the length of her palm.

"I see the magic that flows in you, my dear. I knew it as soon as I saw you," said the old woman in a whisper. "A lot of power, a lot of courage-"

With a flourish, she changed the direction of her finger's movement, and turned her head to observe the extended hand from another angle.

"Overflowing intelligence, and a big heart." The old woman, keeping her finger at a specific point of her hand, looked Hermione in the eye. "Such intelligence, which limits your perception of the world; making it a logical and calculated place. A great heart, pure and kind, that has not yet been awakened."

Hermione tried to keep a serene expression on her face, given the fact that the fortune teller mentioned the matter of her magic, but her eyes had widened in amazement. To hide the impact, she turned to look for her little nephew; and was happy for the interruption as he waved to her enthusiastically from the carrousel.

"I know you don't believe in divination, even though you belong to the world of magic. But the day will come when you do believe."

"I don't want to offend you, but the telling of fortunes is just a bit of fluff and fun."

"Destiny flows, like water in the river; changing direction and avoiding obstacles, but its course invariably takes it to the same place."

Hermione really didn't have a polite response for what the woman said, so she remained silent waiting to see if she would say more.

"Do you want to know your fate, Hermione?"

She withdrew her hand as politely as she could from the grip of the old fortuneteller as she was truly beginning to get a little worried. How does she know her name? Hermione was beginning to have serious doubts about the Muggle nature of the old woman.

"Thank you, really, but I have to go now."

"He will knock at your door, before the end of this lunar cycle. He was your past, beyond the barriers of your understanding of time; and it would be in your hands to let him be part of your future, at least within this life. Destiny doesn't concern itself about mortal boundaries-"

Despite herself, Hermione grew intrigued. "You say who will knock on my door?"

The fortuneteller looked at her again with the sweetest of expressions on her face.

"Your fate. Your partner-"

"Do you mean like a man? Is that really what you see on my future? Because, honestly, it seems quite trite- now you just need to put a desperate sticker on my forehead to crown it all." Hermione rolled her eyes irritated. This was exactly why she hated divination.

The old woman remained unperturbed and continued. "He is part of your fate, since before you were born. He is your complement, your opposite... And therefore, he is what you need the most."

"And who did you say he is?" Hermione asked wryly, not believing a single word of that self-proclaimed prediction.

"Fate sometimes tricks us in very complex ways. But don't worry, my dear; you will recognize him when you see him again. You already knew him."

The carrousel was starting to slow down behind the women. "Madam, can you be more specific about the man, and tell me his name?" She wanted to test the limits of the old liar.

"I could be more specific, of course," the old woman smiled. "He will come to you, knock on your door before the lunar cycle is over. You can recognize him because he has previously awakened very powerful emotions in you-"

"Aunt Hermione!" shouted Sebastian running towards his aunt. She gave him a hug and held him in arms, forgetting for a moment about the lady at her side.

"You had fun?"

"A lot! Who were you talking to?"

Hermione turned to say goodbye to the old lady, but she was no longer there. She twirled to look for her at her stall, but it had also disappeared. Hermione's skin bristled, and she suddenly felt that this meeting wasn't just a bit of fluff and fun.

"With nobody," she replied as she regained her calm. "Do you want us to go for something to eat?"

"Yes, please. I want a hotdog."

"Let's go then"

As they walked off to the hotdog stand, she looked again for the fortuneteller's stall, only to reconfirm that it had effectively vanished into the air.

The moon that smiled, fuller and fuller in the night sky, hid behind the clouds.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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Work absorbed her so much sometimes that she was beginning to feel that her life revolved exclusively around it. Since childhood, Hermione had been dedicated to being the best: in her Muggle school, in Hogwarts, in the University of Applied Magic Laws, in her specialization in Multiracial Magic Law, and later, in the Ministry of Magic. While it was accurate to say that she loved her job, but she could no longer deny that it felt like it wasn't enough- everything was so monotonous, always the same routine. There was no real emotion in her life.

She had had two relatively stable relationships since she had graduated from Hogwarts. But none of those relationships had worked out. Now at twenty eight, she was single, and she couldn't deny that she sometimes felt a little lonely, especially when she saw all her friends happily in love around her. Harry and Ginny, for example, had married a couple years ago and were already expecting their first child. Luna, who was wandering around the world in her search of fantastic creatures, had a boyfriend who accompanied her wherever she went, and Hermione had no doubt that in a couple of months they would announce their engagement. Neville, who was still teaching Herbology at Hogwarts, had met a young woman who was also a Professor at the school, and although they tried to keep things quiet, it was, quite possibly, the worst kept secret in Hogwarts.

When she and Ron ended their relationship six years ago, it had, in effect, ended their friendship. She knew he currently had a girlfriend, but Hermione had only managed to speak a couple of polite and distant words with them when they crossed paths at a meeting. Any other nuggets of information about Ron came from Harry and Ginny.

She tried to tell herself, partly as consolation, that someone would arrive sooner or later, but secretly, she was starting to get tired of her loneliness. Tired that when she joined her friends she could only talk about work. Tired that her family kept asking if she had met anyone. Tired that every weekend, her only amusement consisted of reading a book on her own or visiting her cousin and nephew, filling herself vicariously with the energy that the little boy radiated.

It was Friday and, after a long and tiring week at work, she had nothing more interesting to do than read a good book. Since last week, when she had Sebastian at her home, she was looking forward for some time to relax. Cozied up in her pajamas, she settled into her favorite armchair, placed her steaming cup of coffee aside, and folded her legs under the soft blanket she had on her lap.

She was about to take the first sip of her coffee when someone knocked on the door. Who could it be at this hour? Hermione wondered mentally, while confirming that it was indeed past ten at night.

Suddenly her skin prickled as the memory of the old lady at the fair settled for a moment in the corners of her mind. Even though she knew she placed no value in divination, she could not avoid the shiver that ran through her spine. She approached the door slowly, trying –without success- to tame her wild curls into submission, and finally opened the door.

Who she saw on the other side caused her to audibly gasp in surprise.

It was not the first time she had seen him since they left Hogwarts, although she had not run into him since then. While she knew that he also worked at the Ministry of Magic, she had no idea in which department -and it hasn't be something that she ever thought to find out.

But now he was there, standing idly in her doorway as if it was the most normal thing in the world, with the most serious and contemplative expression on his face.

Draco Malfoy.

"Good evening, Granger. I see that you haven't changed that much." He changed the weight of his body and smiled mischievously, as he scanned her with an appreciative look. "You still have a bird's nest as hair."


	2. The Unspeakable

**DISCLAIMER: THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY BELONG TO THE WONDERFUL J. K. ROWLING, AS IS THE UNIVERSE IN WHICH THE STORY IS DEVELOPED.**

A/N: This chapter was revised by my beta Elthanin Adhara Black, so thank you for your patience and incredible support!

Feel free to comment anything you want, I love to read your impressions about the story. Thank You for reading!

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**Fate's Trap**

Chapter 2. The Unspeakable

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Practically, he felt like a ghost. Something he had gotten used to after all. But it was somehow obvious; the Department of Mysteries was, indeed, the most mysterious Department of the entire Ministry of Magic.

He could say, with absolute certainty, that no one in the whole building knew what he was doing there. Even, most likely not even his own colleagues knew about it, just as he didn't know what the other Unspeakables of the Ministry worked on.

But contrary to what anyone could imagine about being an Unspeakable, it was practically a normal job, except for its secrecy. Basically it was all about research and gathering information about topics hitherto scarcely or nully addressed by the current magic sciences.

It was a very interesting job, but tremendously lonely. Even the few members or the department were strongly urged to refrain any contact between them and, as far as possible, try not to let hem be seen among the aisles of the Ministry.

It had happened more than once; the secrets that the Unspeakables possessed aroused such curiosity among some people that they ended up being interrogated until harassment, or even kidnapped. Just to make them revealed the mysteries they possessed.

Therefore, without being able to speak with anyone inside the Ministry, and without being noticed when he walked through the halls or aboard the elevator, he had begun to feel like a ghost.

The time when, due to his surname, he felted the supreme ruler of his school had passed to history. He had also overcome, narrowly, those dark times of his past in which he found himself submerged in the cursed rows of the Dark Lord.

And he had also passed that horrible stage of his life in which, considered a traitor from both the "good ones" and the "bad ones" he had had to gradually build a new name to try to vindicate his family's name; something that, even after such a long time, hadn't achieved at all.

After so much time, and all the headaches that made him mature treacherously, Draco Malfoy was no longer measure himself according to his blood status, his last name, or his lineage. After all, the circumstances in which he had been involved accomplished that task for him.

Now he had a select group of friends from his school years, after have purged all those ones who still had blood prejudices. With them he used to go out time after time. He tried to keep himself in touch with them meanwhile he wasn't working, mainly to have some conversation topics besides of work. He used to be worried about being questioned about his researches, but his friends never asked about it anyway. As good Slytherins from the war times, they had learned not to get into other ones business if they didn't want to talk about it.

He still retained some of his yesteryear's features, despite having changed most of them. He was still scathing with his comments, and his gaze, in the eyes of those who didn't know him, was still as pretentious as ever. His gestures and his moves remained aristocratic and elegant, to the point of appearing arrogance.

But those ones who truly knew him, which he could count with one hand fingers, knew that behind that gaze of him he hid a wounded pride that had not yet being recovered. And that his aristocratic bearing was nothing more than a defence shield, to try to set people apart. They were his armour, to prevent people from approaching him. To avoid being judged by whom he had been, or worse, by what his parents had done.

Yes, he had had some relationships over the years; even a couple of years ago he had dated a half-blood witch despite the reluctance of his parents. But due to the shell that had imposed himself to avoid being hurt, the girl ended up leaving him, claiming that his coldness and distance did never allow her to approach him.

Deep inside him, he knew that if she had leaved him, was because she wasn't the right one. He wanted to have in his life someone who gave him such an absolute and total confidence that he could be himself- without having to hide. Someone that accept him just as he was; including his past, including the prejudices that loomed over him. Someone who complete him in such a way that nothing else really mattered at all.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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The pile of books, scrolls and documents was monumental; so much that his considerable height was not enough for his eyes to exceed the top of the stack.

He was trying to get to his office with all the documentation material he had extracted from the vast and large library of Department of Mysteries, that could only be accessed with a special spell individually developed by each Unspeakable of the Ministry.

Despite not being too far from his office, he tried not to have to take more than one tour to take the documentation he would work with that day. So he had decided to take everything all at once. Unfortunately the rules of the library prohibited carrying the wand inside the enclosure, so as every day, he would have to carry everything without using magic.

And there he was, with a bunch of scrolls at the base of his hands, and an indecent amount of books, crashing into each column of the corridor, juggling to keep them from falling to the ground.

He accidentally stepped on the hem of his robe, and after a couple of wobbles, he ended up lying on the floor, with each and every one of the documents watered around him.

"Fuck"

Twenty minutes later, he was finally again in the comfort of his large office.

On the back wall -which was at least 23 feet long- an intricate engraving was deployed; to inexperienced eyes it would have looked like a genealogical tree. But looking closely, it reunited in apparently arbitrary ways unrelated wizards, witches and Muggles from all over the world.

His study field. The reason why he had joined the Unspeakable crew of the Ministry of Magic.

As ironic as it was, what most denoted his change according to the blood lineage posture was precisely what he could not share with anyone.

Since he can remembered, he had always been interested in the apparent "spontaneous development" of magic in people without a magical heritage. When he was young, and the prejudices clouded his curiosity, he attributed it to some form of theft or deception by the mood-bloods, turning into an unfounded hatred that was increased by growing up in the family in which he had born.

But that thought changed over the years, becoming genuine curiosity. And that was the main reason why he chose his studies towards Healing. He wanted to find the biological origin of magic in Muggles.

On that time, he even devoted himself to deeply study some of the most complex Muggle treatises about genetics, trying by all means to find what made it possible for a person to out of nowhere became a wizard.

His study was never conclusive, and he became frustrated. He even relishes back his yesteryear theories regarding the usurped origin of magic in Muggles.

But one day things changed completely. He was called by the Ministry of Magic; specifically from the Mysteries Department, to enroll in a new study field they were developing. His surprise was huge when he found that this department, with a very different research approach, investigated precisely the same subject: the origin of magic in Muggles.

They had this theory that they wanted to bear out. And it was so incredible it even defied the limits of magic itself: Reincarnation.

Draco's job was mainly to gather information about the lives of certain wizards and witches through the centuries, and link them through comparisons and similarities with other one lives. It was difficult, boring, and frustrating. To have to look for all that information and then catalog it, file it and after that then compare and extrapolate everything until he finally find a connection path. At first he came to think that it would be impossible to find such complex and diverse information in order to create connections. But using his tenacity and some very useful cameras among the Department of Mysteries, he had managed to find an effective methodology.

After five long years, he had gathered an impressive record of reincarnations. And that determined, with amazing precision, that it was precisely the way in which magic was transmitted. It wasn't a physical issue after all. The magic did not reside in the body ...but in the soul.

Now he had an especially old connection path. One that had left him amazed, precisely because he knew the final receptacle. Something that until now had never happened before.

Discovered in his records in the XIV century, he had managed to catalog seven of her lives so far, the last one being precisely that person who had generated his first doubts about the legitimacy of magic in Muggles, and aroused the curiosity that led him as far as he was now.

Hermione Granger.

The first time his studies led him to that connection, ten months ago, he was drinking a heavy coffee. When he found one of Antares Zarggoh's paintings. He had to cast a Reparo, due to the damage caused to the portrait by the expelled coffee from his mouth. She was the vivid image of his former Hogwarts classmate.

The books, scrolls and documents he now was studying, corresponded to the times when both Antares and three of her other lives: Marie Gray, Astrid Renaldi and Elena Santana, had existed. He had already identified the similarities between those four particular lives. Now he just had to add the physical descriptions and their offspring to be able to close the file and continue with some other one connection path.

He was already accustomed to finding impressive physical similarities between the lives of his study subjects. But as he had never investigated someone he really knew, it had always been an impersonal impact.

But seeing Granger's face reflected through the centuries, an even greater curiosity began to awaken him.

He was examining one of Astrid Renaldi's Renaissance paintings, a clearly muggle one due to lack of movement, when something caught his attention.

That period paintings were especially realistic, and were usually made in a place that reflected the portrayed person personality. How could it be otherwise, Astrid Renaldi had been immortalized in what looked like a reading room, sitting in an elegant Victorian armchair, with a bookcase full of books behind her, and a portrait in her hands.

Astrid's gaze was sad, yearning. And she held that portrait with -what seemed to Draco- despair. He observed, through a special enchanted lens that enlarge the image, by simple morbid curiosity, the portrait she was holding in her hands. And for a moment he was stunned.

Because the man in Astrid Renaldi's painting portrait ... was very similar to him.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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Something had to be wrong.

But he knew it wasn't, his research was impeccable.

Astrid Renaldi's husband, Franco Messina, had died due to the Black Death in the year 1447, leaving the 31-year-old widow alone with two offspring. At the age of 40, Astrid was persecuted by the most conservative factions of Catholicism of that time, cataloged her as a necromancer and eventually locked her up in 1456.

He looked for Franco Messina's portraits, but found nothing that would help him on his files, except for that portrait Renaldi's held in her painting, that he had found by chance.

So the investigation proceeded with Elena Santana.

Elena was born in 1621, in Milan. A time of civil wars and conflicts between Spain and France kept the entire population in danger, and the magic one in particular. At the age of 8, and having not yet begun her magical studies, Elena left her country with her parents to the lands of the New Spain. When they decided to settle in the capital, a terrible flood caused them to migrate to the north of the colony, eventually arriving in Santa Maria de los Angeles in 1631, a developing settlement that give land grants to anyone who was willing to harvest them, and bring Christian knowledge to the natives.

Elena's father, Don Agustín Santana, a wizard who had managed to make good contacts with the high ranks of the colony, got a couple acres of land that magically prolifered. When she turned 13, she began receiving formal education at home from her witch mother. But as she was a bit rebellious, despite his parents' refusals she began to practice her knowledge outside at night, to avoid being discovered and get her family called into questions.

That's how she met Ignacio Solar, an 18-year-old wizard who one night discovered her while practicing some of the spells her mother taught her. They fell in love and after four years they got married, but they could never have family.

Draco could get an old black and white gazette with some news and drawings. It was quite damaged, but ultimately it served its purpose. Again he discovered himself in there. His hair was black and his skin was darker, but it was definitely him.

And then again he was related to her-

The discovery that their lives had been linked in two past reincarnations began to intrigue him greatly. If it had been those two, could it be possible that there were more?

They were strenuous months, full of research. But in the end he discovered that in the seven lives he had documented on her, he had been there. Invariably.

In all of them they had had some kind of relationship.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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He was sitting at his desk, his eyes closed tightly and pressing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

He had been watching Marie Gray's wedding photography; and he still held it between his fingers, tightly clenched, while trying to control the flood of thoughts hovering over him.

What does all that means?

Seeing the picture was practically seeing himself joyfully hugging Hermione Granger. They both danced in the center of the dance floor, without taking their eyes apart of each other, and smiling as if there were nothing in the world that could make them happier. In the magical portrait, he took her in his arms and lifted her in a twist that ended in a hug and a kiss on the lips.

And he looked so bloody happy.

It was shocking to find that expression on a face so similar to his own. For everything he could remember, he had never been in a situation where he felt half the happy Nicolas Sanders was, being with his wife.

He never stopped to think about the repercussions that his reincarnation research could have on him, since it never crossed his mind to investigate himself. But he never thought he would find it like that, by accident, appearing again and again in the life of one of his subjects.

And that precisely that person were Hermione Granger put him at a crossroads. Since that time on, every time he had a chance, he find himself thinking about what would have happen to her, if she would have being married now, if she had any kind of relationship.

He laid the picture on his desk carefully and went to his board of path connections. He wrote neatly Hermione Jane Granger in the last position of that connection path, and watched her name.

If they had been together for five lives, and had had a truncated relationship attempt in other two ones, would it be advisable to look for her now? In other circumstances he would never have considered it. But the thing was already done, and the seed of doubt began to grow inside of him. If he had not been able to have a completely successful relationship so far, would it be because his fate was to be with her?

Then he decided. At the end he didn't have that much to lose.

He would find her, and he would contact her. He was willing to try approach on Hermione Granger.

Something inside his chest flares with anticipation.


	3. The visit

**DISCLAIMER: THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY BELONG TO THE WONDERFUL J. K. ROWLING, AS IS THE UNIVERSE IN WHICH THE STORY IS DEVELOPED.**

A/N: Hello everybody. I bring you this chapter, it was revised and corrected by my beta Elthanin Adhara Black. Thanks for reading!. Hope you like it. XO

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**Fate's Tap**

Chapter 3. The visit

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She was open mouthed. Literally, her mouth was open in astonishment.

She stared at him with her eyes wide open, as if in the doorway of her apartment, a yellow dressed dementor had appear juggling with quaffles instead of him.

"Malfoy?"

If that had been a random visit, at that moment she could have react in two ways: invite him to come in, if the visit was a desirable person; or close the door right in his nose, if the visit was an undesirable one. Definitely, the second option was the one that applied best, but even though the decision was made in her head, her body didn't want to cooperate. She was in shock; probably that was the most appropriate term for her current condition.

She forced herself to close her mouth.

"Aren't you going to invite me in, Granger? Those manners leave much to be desired, if you want my opinion."

She didn't get a chance to react, once again. Draco entered, as if he were in his own home, pulling her aside with a slight shoulder touch to make his way in.

Hermione searched for her wand in the non-existent bags of her pajamas, and momentarily felt helpless scared; if Malfoy had gone to hurt her, he would have a ridiculously easy job.

The man -who never stopped watching her as her face went through all facets between outrage and fear-, mockingly smiled.

"I'm not going to hurt you Granger, in case that crossed your mind."

Then Hermione came to her senses, abruptly surpassing the initial impression. Now she was pissed of that prick. Who does he think he was, pretending to came to her own house just to make fun of her?

"Then, what the hell are you doing here?" Hermione said sharply, approaching to him with a defiant gesture. "How in the world did you get my address?"

Hermione stood an inch away from him as he looked at her with an amusement.

"But above all, with what right do you come into my house" she nailed one of her fingers in his chest, repeating the gesture with every word "as if you had the right or permission to do so?"

"I thought it was right, given the fact that you don't seemed to be reacting by the end of the year." Draco adjusted his robe with an elegant gesture. "Can I sit down?" He added, in courtesy, trying to calm the woman's temper.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Draco shrugged slightly and crossed his arms behind him, waiting for the girl's invitation, as he stared into her eyes.

Hermione gasped in exasperation, and extend her arm in an abrupt and impatient gesture, pointing one of the armchairs in the room. He'd better not expect any kind invitation because he would be standing all night long.

He bowed himself in an extremely old-fashioned thanks and made his way to the living room, he shifted his robe aside and sat cross-legged.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went to sit in her chair, removing the blanket she had been cuddling before the man's unexpected appearance.

"So... Are you comfortable enough to talk, or do I have to invite you a cup of coffee too?"

"It wouldn't hurt me."

"You're kidding, right?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Now you're gonna tell me this is a social visit, right?"

He looked at her impassively.

She couldn't believe it. It had to be a joke, a bad one. But there he was, her Hogwarts worst enemy, sitting quietly in the armchair of her living room; waiting for her to offer him a cup of coffee... The world had definitely gone crazy. And what was she going to do next, ask him: Do you drink it with sugar, Malfoy? For Merlin's sake, she was expecting a quiet night, accompanied by her "Pride and Prejudice" book, instead of that quasi-Dantesque pantomime.

And that jerk didn't even move. He kept staring at her, waiting for the fucking coffee.

"I can't believe it."

She lift up and walked to the kitchen, where fortunately she had a reserve of coffee ready for her -not for that prick-. She took a small, really tiny cup for him, to see if that way he leaves sooner, and served a little of the hot drink.

Then she find herself wondering if he actually drink his coffee with milk and sugar. She was about to take the sugar when she realized how much she didn't cared about how he used to drink anything.

She returned to the living room, where Draco was waiting for her, taking a peep at her book.

She wished to be bad enough to apply an unforgivable curse on him, but she conformed herself by staring at him sharply as she put the tiny cup on the table. He took his cup, already cooled, and sat back on his chair.

"Very kind of you, Granger. It's nice to see that, despite your facade, you're able to manage a bit of courtesy with your guests."

"Please, Malfoy; stop pissing around. In fact, of all the people I'd ever expected to knock on my door, you were the least feasible. What do you want?"

Draco looked at her seriously. Frankly he didn't know what to say. He had struggled to keep the track of her, to find her address, to find out her schedules. But he never stopped to think about what he was going to tell her once he had her in front of him.

"To be completely honest... I'm not sure." He took a sip of his coffee.

"You are not sure? Do you show up at my house, after ten o'clock at night, and you're not sure what you've come for?" Hermione got up from her seat and opened her apartment's door. "This was quite enough, Malfoy; I'm not in the mood for your bad jokes. Get out of my house."

"It's not a joke, Granger."

"Is not a joke, you said! And what do you expect from me, that we just start a friendly talk about how life has treated us? For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, just tell me you had a concussion. Do you forget about who we are?" Hermione grabbed the doorbell so tight that her knuckles began to whiten. "Because I can't forget, I can't forget anything about it: All your insults, all your humiliations. Everything you had done!

Draco stand up, his face slightly twitched.

"I was a kid, Granger. More than ten years have passed since then. You can't keep sorting me the same way as when we were at Hogwarts."

"Oh, no; of course. As ten years have passed, I must leave behind seven years of your offenses of a sudden, and invite you for a cup of coffee!" She was red with fury, and pointed imperiously to the door. "Get out of my house now, or I will get my wand and force your way out."

Draco approached her and looked into her eyes, frowning with indignation.

"I'm not the same man, Granger. And I think being here at your house should be proof enough. Just look at yourself; since I arrived you have done nothing but scream to me, and I have not even raised my voice."

"That doesn't mean anything," Hermione answered, a bit calmly. "That doesn't erase the past."

Draco closed his eyes tightly, pressing his nose with his fingers. That woman will not yield even a little; she was too damn proud. Of course he knew he had offended her; that his actions had been more than reprehensible to her; but he had changed...

She stared at him with eyes watered of indignation, without giving up her dignified position. Something in that look; in the pain expressed in her eyes, in her hurt pride, reminded him of how he had felt years ago, when people despised him for the circumstances in which he had been involved, even against his own will. He hadn't been guilty of being a pureblood, nor of being brought up in a family with muggle prejudices who decided to join the Dark Lord.

But she hadn't been guilty of being a muggle-born witch. Got damn it, he knew it now more than ever. And even though he wasn't guilty of the education he had received, she never deserved the way he had treat her.

"I'm sorry Granger. I'm sorry for the way I treated you at Hogwarts. But you have to understand that at that age I wasn't able to see the world beyond what I had learned in my home; that was the only world I ever knew... That was the way I thought things worked."

Hermione looked at him incredulously, but her position relaxed a bit.

"I know you didn't deserve the insults, the offenses, or the ill-treatment I gave you, and that's why I'm sorry. But I can't change who I was. All I can offer to you is an apology and the certainty that I no longer see things the same way."

Draco took a breath and stepped closer to her.

"If you can stand for a second in my place, and realize I'm no longer the same man, then maybe we can get to know each other for the first time, because before we had no opportunity. Ignorance, fear and contempt opened a gap between us before we could ever get to know each other."

She never expected such a thing from him. Draco's words had really had an impression on her...

And seeing him like this, looking at her with such intense and honest look, make her began to feel a slight warmth inside her, like a void in her stomach. She felt her heart start to beat louder.

Then the phone rang, and Malfoy drew his wand on alert.

"It's just the phone, Malfoy; take it easy." Hermione closed the door she had kept open for him to leave, hinting that he could stay, and hurried to answer the call.

Draco kept his wand wielded and followed her, feeling curious about that piece of white plastic that Granger was talking to.

"What? Lis... slow down, where are you?"

Silence.

"Is he okay?" Draco witness as the woman's eyes watered. "But is he conscious?"

Silence again.

"I'm going there. No... No. I'm going over there right now. Lis, calm down. Sebastian will be fine. And how are you, are you hurt?"

Draco didn't know what was going on, but he assumed this device was some kind of muggle communicator, and for what Granger was saying he knew she was receiving some bad news.

"Give me fifteen minutes, I'll arrive as soon as I can..." She sobbed. "Give him a kiss from me, tell him I'm going on my way. Tell him I love him..."

As soon as she hanged the phone, she collapsed into a dining room chair and began to cry.

Draco stood there, not knowing what to do. He approached her as she was recovering herself, standing up meanwhile rubbing her eyes with her sleeves hem.

"Are you okay Granger?" He asked with gravelly voice.

"I have to go Malfoy, we'll talk about that another time." Hermione went to her room, without paying too much attention to Draco, who was still standing in the space between the living room and the dining room.

A couple of minutes later, Hermione hurried out of her room towards the door, dressed in jeans and a simple red sweater, carrying her bag and ringing the keys at the pace of her rush.

When she reached the door she turned around and found that Malfoy was standing there.

"Are you still here? I really must go, Malfoy. My cousin had an accident, and my nephew is in the hospital." She opened the door of her house and urged Draco to move. Her eyes moistened again.

Draco walked out of the door next to her, and escorts her as they descended the stairs. Once down, Hermione headed for the building's parking lot, and with the remote control opened her small van.

"I'm going with you," Draco said, determined to get a second chance with Granger as he tried to figure out how to open the bloody door.

"Malfoy, this is serious, my nephew is hurt. At any another time we can get a chance to talk again."

Finally Draco figured out how to open the door and without saying a word he get on the muggle device, with determined expression. Once inside he closed the door.

Hermione didn't have time to argue with him; so she got up, started the engine and rushed into the street, with no more warning for Draco than a "hold on."

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

.

After asking for the kid at the counter, they began to walk down a long, white and anodyne passageway, that have several closed doors all the way.

Draco watched with curiosity as he followed Hermione hasty footsteps, which resonated through the walls of the corridor. At soon as they reached a sort of waiting room, Hermione immediately turned to a brown haired woman who had a rather marked resemblance to her. He assumed she was her cousin.

"Lis, where's Sebastian? What have they told you?"

"He's in the room 204, doctor must arrive here any minute. The study's results have not yet arrived, but it seems that he will be fine. He only complained about pain in his side and they had to sedate him a little." The woman's hands were shaking, and she tried to hide it by repeatedly adjusting her skirt. Her eyes were red, but there were no tears in them, probably because she had cried enough. She didn't notice that Hermione arrived accompanied.

"Can I go and see him?"

"The nurse asked me to leave for a moment. I guess as soon as she leave you can come in." She took a strange flat-small device, and looked at it for a moment. "Charles can't take any longer. I told him I was waiting here while the nurse is with Sebastian."

At that moment the device began to vibrate and the woman put it on her ear and began to talk to it. He would never understand those strange muggle gadgets of nowadays.

Draco took a sneak into the hall looking for room 204, but Hermione discovered him, so apologizing to her cousin went after him.

"Where do you think you are going, Malfoy?"

"To see your nephew" he answered as he grabbed the knob of the door marked number 204.

Hermione stopped him by the arm.

"Of course you don't. You don't even know him, why would you have to go in there?"

"Granger, stand aside" Draco pushed his arm away as he turned the knob on the door.

"Malfoy, don't, he's my nephew." Hermione pushed his arm again, now standing completely between him and the door. "What are you looking getting in there?"

"I studied Healing magic, Granger. I just want to give him an overhaul. Move off." His voice sounded authoritative, still she didn't move. He took her by her shoulders and stared at her. "Let me help him."

Hermione stare at him for a second, trying to find some double intention in him; after thinking about it, she gave way. She saw him enter through the door and stood just behind him, looking on both sides of the aisle to make sure there was no one nearby.

Little Sebastian was lying on the bed, his eyes closed. The nurse, -who was still in the room- took a couple of notes in her folder and, after checking the tubes of the intravenous serum, asked them if they were relatives. Then she left the room.

Hermione reached over her nephew and brushed his tousled brown hair fondly, while a silent tear slid down her cheek.

"Muggle medicine is tremendously invasive. Surely that thing stuck in his arm hurts him the most" Draco said annoyed as he approached the child, looking him serious.

"I know, Malfoy; but my family is muggle, and they don't know what I am. There's nothing we could do, if they see you using magic they will be scared."

"I'm just going to overhaul him Granger, I don't even need my wand for that." Draco carefully placed his left hand on the child's forehead, while with his right he walked up and down, very close to the child's body, but without touching him. He held his hand at certain points to double-check and continue moving after that.

Hermione looked at him curiously. She didn't know Malfoy was a Healer; of course, she barely knew anything about him. But seeing him like this, carefully checking her nephew, made her feel... weird. He was so focused, so confident in what he was doing; that she had no doubt he could help.

The twists and turns of life.

"How is he?" She asked softly, as she stood away in a corner of the small room to let Malfoy some space.

"He's going to be okay. He just has a small bruise on his temple, and his arm and two ribs chipped. All internal organs are in perfect condition. I can fix it in a second, if you agreed." He looked at her, asking for her permission to heal her nephew. She thought about it for a plain second before nodding.

Draco pulled his wand out of his trousers -he had left his robe on Granger's car to avoid curious looks- and made a couple of movements on the child's chest and face with expert hand. As he did the last healing charm on his face, turning his wand in an upward spiral, the boy opened his eyes.

"Who are you?" the little boy asked curiously, staring at the weird little stick that the stranger kept in his trouser pocket. "Are you my doctor?"

"He's a... friend of mine, Sebastian. How do you feel?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore," the child replied calmly. He looked at Draco and Hermione alternately, as if trying to understand something. His curious gaze was directed to the small piece of wooden stick that peeked out of his aunt's friend's pants.

His eyes flashed with astonishment. Then Lis entered.

"Charles has just arrived, he's parking his car. I told him I would see him here." The woman turned to see Draco with a slightly frown. "Are you the doctor?"

"Lis, I had no chance to introduce you to Malfoy. A former classmate." She pointed to Draco, who was rounding the stretcher to get to them.

"Draco Malfoy, nice to meet you" he said politely, as he shakes the woman's hand with grace. Lis's cheeks flushed slightly.

"My pleasure, Draco."

Hermione looked at him, drawing a slight but sincere smile of appreciation on her face, as her cousin approached her nephew's bed.

"Thank you," she managed to tell him when she got close enough.

"Don't thank me, Granger. You owe me now."

Hermione's frowned.

"What can I give you in exchange for healing my nephew, Malfoy?"

"A coffee, perhaps. And a second chance..."

They looked at each other, and something inside them twitched. As if a feeling impossible to define began to give a first sign of its existence. But that connection only lasted a second; because they both got to hear the last snippet of the boy's conversation with his mom.

"-And then he did magic mom, drew a magic wand and all. He's a wizard!"

Hermione opened wide her eyes, without knowing what to say, and looked at Draco for help.

Then Draco, after an assent of complicity, approached the child. He gestured to get something from behind the boy's ear, and apparated a small red lollipop. Sebastian clapped his hands delightedly, chorusing the gesture with laughter and repeating, "I told you, I told you" as he took the lollipop to his mouth. Hermione composed an expression of astonishment at Malfoy's kind gesture. Who would ever have said so?

"How impressive!" Lis commented softly, twirling her little boy's hair with relieved on his health.

Her cousin glanced appreciatively at Draco, then back to her. Then she articulated a gigantic "wow" that Hermione pretended not to see.

She could already hear her on the phone: "why did you hide him from me."


	4. Deja vu

**DISCLAIMER: THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY BELONG TO THE WONDERFUL J. K. ROWLING, AS IS THE UNIVERSE IN WHICH THE STORY IS DEVELOPED.**

A/N: Hello everybody. Thank you for your support. The story is now completely under the revision of my beta, Elthanin Adhara Black. Hope you like the chapter. Feel free to leave me your impressions, I love to read and reply to your comments.

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**Fate's Trap**

Chapter 4. Deja vu

oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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Hermione tried for the third pair of earrings that evening; she didn't like it either. She ended up wearing the first ones she tried.

She adjusted her curls, -with which she had an eternal struggle every time she comb it-, and after a last appreciative look, she went out of her bedroom.

She told herself over and over again that she was only being polite with him, that she only wanted to pay off the debt owed to Malfoy, so she could comfort herself. She never liked to owed to anyone. But if the truth be told, her further meeting with Malfoy had been haunting her since Monday.

She still remembered returning home after leaving Sebastian's hospital room. After performing a modifying spell on the child's x-rays in order to eliminate any evidence of Malfoy's altruistic action, they had climbed into her truck in silence, and so they continued the rest of the journey, practically without putting out a single word.

But, -and she had been surprised to realize-, that hadn't been an awkward silence, at all. Conversely, it was the kind of silence you only share with someone you feel comfortable; they didn't had to fill the blanks with trivial chitchat... that was disturbing, she horrified at the realization that it was something way too intimate.

She felt some sort of electricity in the air, like magnetism. She was too aware of Malfoy's presence at her side, and perceived even the smallest of his movements, which raised her heartbeat.

She wondered worried why would it be, what was the reason she perceive him with every single one of her nerves: as if he were an extension of her own body; like at one of his moves, her body had to react by bristling.

She found herself remembering Malfoy's times at Hogwarts; trying to find on those memories a glimpse of what she perceive about him now. Of course she didn't find anything, at least not the same. Yes, Malfoy usually get her feel aroused, but the kind that is usually accompanied with a gastric ulcer. She had never ever feel comfortable with him around, the only thing that jerk had ever made her feel was pure and vibrant resentment. Nuisance. A disturbingly deep contempt.

She wanted to attribute that change in her perception of Malfoy to the gratitude she felt when he helped her nephew, but after a careful introspective analysis concluded that it wasn't so. She had already perceived that kind of energy between them before, a few moments before her cousin's call. Precisely the moment he approached her saying, -in small words- that he wanted to know her. Despite the prudent distance between them, she had felt him so painfully close that her pores reacted bristling.

Then, what the hell was happening between her and Malfoy?

When they finally arrived her apartment, and she placed the keys on the dining room table, she tried to break the silence with any trivial talk.

"Do you want that coffee now, Malfoy?"

Draco smirked, and Hermione found herself recognizing that smile as a constant in her memories of him at Hogwarts. The one that had always drawn her attention because of the curious mixture of arrogance and amusement it denoted. As if he wanted to disguise his reaction to a comment with irony, so he could hide that he really find it witty.

She rebuked herself, how it was possible for her to knew that much about the shades of Malfoy's smiles.

"Don't dare to think that with a homemade coffee you're going to get rid of your debt, Granger. You know what I meant to say."

"I perfectly understood, Malfoy. I just was trying to be nice with you."

"Well, thank you then, Granger, but I must go now." Draco walked to the door without waiting for Hermione, but she headed right behind him.

"Shall I come to pick you?"

"Tell me where and when, and I'll see you there." Replied Hermione. She would never permit that thing became a date.

"Next Friday, eight o'clock. I'll see you at the Leaky Cauldron, so I can take you to another place."

Hermione was shocked by the way he expressed, way too confident about himself. "Exactly where are we going?"

"You'll see then" That damn smirk reappeared and twitched her. "Don't worry Granger, I didn't plan to kidnap you or anything."

"I don't find it any funny, Malfoy; but if you cross any boundary with me, I will leave; but not without cursing you first. It that clear?"

"As clear as water."

Hermione found herself in the ridiculous situation of not knowing how to say goodbye to him. She was about to raise her hand to shake, but it was so absurd that she held back. In the end, he bowed his head again, as he had done in the living room before.

"See you then, Granger. Have a goodnight."

And then he left.

Hermione closed the door, and leaned her back against it, sliding slowly until she sat on the floor. The words of the fortuneteller echoed her head.

He will knock at your door, before the end of this lunar cycle. He was your past, beyond the barriers of your understanding of time; and it would be in your hands to let him be part of your future…

Despite never having believed in adivination before, that memory had left her breathless.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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She apparated in the Leaky Cauldron just when the embedded clock in the wall showed eight o'clock at night.

She didn't even have to look for him; he approached her before she had a chance to look up.

"I'm grateful you're right on time, Granger. And for that attempt to tame your hair." He smirked when she frowned. There were pleasures hard to resist, and definitely one of them was annoy her.

"And I'd appreciate it if you stopped messing with my appearance. Perhaps you need to find a new way to amuse your life beside fucking annoying everyone around you."

"But where would the fun be then?" Draco invited her to accompany him with a hand gesture. "Of course, I forgot, you don't seem to ever know what fun means. But worry not, Granger, perhaps you can learn a couple things about it with me."

"And how will you do that? Oh, let me guess: You will teach me how to make people so angry that their ears start to fume; and then we will be delighted when suddenly they spontaneously ignite. Good plan, Malfoy. You are an Amusement Master."

"I don't need to show you that, you are perfectly able to accomplish that task by yourself." He looks her sideways with a funny grin on his lips. "And of course, if all that fails, you can always erase anyone from the earth's surface with a slap."

They both walked through Diagon Alley, which was bustling with people at that time of night. Stores were already closed; but restaurants, bars and some coffee shops were still open.

"I see you haven't forgotten."

"It would be hard to forget about it; my nose still bleeds in cold weather."

Hermione looked at him scared, and stopped her walk to inspect his nose. He looked back at her with a serious countenance, that makes her feel some sort of guilt; but she forced herself to repress it, after all it had been well deserved. But did his nose really bleed every winter after that slap? She found herself watching his nostrils, as if waiting for a leaky blood drop to appear at any moment.

Then without any warning Draco burst out laughing, bewildering her.

"I really can't stand you believed such nonsense."

She was about to be outraged, but for some reason, she starts laughing instead. When they finally manage to stop the laugh, they both looked at each other strangely; as if that memory, instead of being an unpleasant experience, had become a fun memory they shared.

"So, Malfoy, where are we going then?" Hermione looked at him questioningly. "Some dreary place full of dark wizards and stuff?"

Draco rolled his eyes "Of course not, Granger. You should start leaving that behind. I already told you that I'm a different person."

"Well, don't blame me for asking..."

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo  
.

They entered a small but crowded place and all her senses became saturated. There was nice music, and a warm temperature. The intermingled smell of coffee and spices was predominant; a simple restaurant after all, who would have said it. Although while they walked towards an available table towards the bottom, she found that there was a sort of dance floor, with some couples dancing on it. She felt uncomfortable seeing at it, without knowing exactly why. They finally arrived at their table.

"I didn't know such place existed" Hermione say, placing her light coat on the back of the chair. "Don't you find it strange? Restaurant and dance room mix."

"They have good coffee, and a decent menu; and you can have a talk in here. It's usually a quiet place. You don't have to get nervous about the dance floor, Granger."

"What makes you think I'm scared about a dance floor, Malfoy?"

Draco leaned back on the table, to get closer to her, and watch her with a funny look.

"I saw you; dancing with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball, remember? I assumed that after such a traumatic experience, you would hate any place with that kind of atmosphere."

Hermione laughed, as the waiter approached to offer them the menu. They ordered and the man withdrew.

"I've had worse dance partners, actually. Ron always had two left feet" Hermione reminded her friend yearning.

Draco felt a strange pang in the pit of his stomach, which he ignored as best as he could. He suddenly remembered how much he hated Weasley.

"So you're still with him. I honestly expected more from you, Granger. That Weasel was always a retard."

Hermione frowned, but let it pass. Remembering Ron always made her feel somehow sad.

"Actually, I'm no longer with him, I haven't seen him for a while. But I would prefer if we change the subject."

"And what would you like to talk about then, Granger."

"Well, in fact, what I'd like to know is why you contacted me, Malfoy; why did you bring me here to talk as if we were old friends?"

Draco, uncomfortable, changed position in his chair. Of course she wouldn't let it be. She wanted answers... Answers he couldn't give.

"Tell me instead, what do you do now Granger, did you continue with your SPEW thing?"

"S.P.E.W." She replied with her best know-it-all voice, raising her nose in that typical gesture she used to use when she was offended. -She had swallowed the bite-. "Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. How do you know about that Malfoy?"

"Well, you spent a lot of time spreading propaganda about it. I remember how much I laughed at that hilarious name you decided to use when I came across one of those pamphlets. Spew Granger, really? Couldn't you choose something less ridiculous?"

Hermione gritted her teeth angrily. All men were so immature!

"Maybe the name wasn't my brightest idea Malfoy, but the initiative succeed. It ended up decreeing it as a law seven years ago."

The waiter arrived with two aromatic steaming cups of coffee that he carefully placed on the table.

"So, Magic Law then" Draco resumed the conversation. "I think you chose well your profession, taking into account that little obsession of yours to protect the unprivileged."

"You, on the other hand," she replied, "chose the profession that would have least expected from you. Healing Magic?" She took a sip of her coffee. "It is not that I spent my time wondering what had you done with your life, but if anyone had ask me what would I think you were doing, I have responded that you take care of your family's business; that maybe you had studied an administrative career, I don't know... Why did you choose that profession?" Since annoying people's lives wasn't a profession, she had discarded it.

Draco play for time by tasting his coffee. She always had to ask the wrong questions, right? Well, a little bit of truth wouldn't hurt either.

"My field is Research, as a matter of fact."

Hermione's eyes flared with curiosity.

"Research? Wow... what branch of Medical research?"

"My thesis was based on the development of magic in non-magical people. Specifically in the genetic factor that potentiated its appearance."

"Did you find something interesting?" Hermione was really intrigued. Now that she thought about it, she had never wondered what had made her a witch.

Draco looked at her, finding in her gaze that she was really into the subject. If she had any tiny idea of what he was doing now, she would surely fall back. How would the rational Granger react to an issue that escaped all understanding? Suddenly Draco felt real regret for not being able to share his current investigation.

"It wasn't conclusive; I could never unravel its genetic origin, all proves always pointed to a spontaneous generation."

Hermione got serious out of the blue, looking at her half-empty coffee cup. She thought she understood why he had studied that after all; to justify that people like her shouldn't belong to this world. He had always cared too much about blood purity...

"Is there a problem Granger?"

"Not really." Hermione looked at him again, her gaze became a bit challenging. "I was trying to understand why you studied that in particular."

"Do you want me to be honest?" Suddenly Draco felt exposed. He knew he was breaking on a personal ground; but what the hell, he had gone there for that. He found himself recalling those first investigations, and the mental image he had always set on his mind. "It was you."

A very strange feeling went through her; at first it was annoyance, but then it changed. She felt warmth extend from the center of her chest until reach each one of her limbs. He had thought about her? "Me?"

They looked intensely; as if a crystal had broken between them.

"You were the main engine of my first investigations, Granger. What was that in you that put you always over me, over anyone? How was there so much magic in someone without any magical ancestry?"

The music suddenly changed, becoming slower. A few couples got up from their seats and headed to the dance floor.

She looked at the dancers absentmindedly, partly because she couldn't look straight at Malfoy. Hermione felt her cheeks flushed, and there was still that strange warmth filling inside her chest. She would never have thought that Draco had come to think of her as someone superior. She didn't know how to feel about that confession, but she was sure that feeling so glad about being part of his thoughts shouldn't feel as good as it felt.

"Didn't you do it just to prove that people like me shouldn't exist?" She asked remembering her previous concern, and trying to get rid of that stupid pleasant feeling of hers.

"On the contrary, Granger; I wanted to understand you." He was becoming a blabbermouth, it was clear, but he couldn't shut up. Once he started, the words flowed through his mouth, surprising even him. "You were the person who blown away each one of the teachings I received since I was a child. No matter how hard I tried, I never got over you. I remember that in the end, my most ambitious goal was to match you. You turned my world upside down without even proposing Granger, and I wanted to know why."

She dive into his gaze, in the piercing intensity with which he was watching her; and suddenly she wondered if he had always been this way, if behind that child who went out of his way insulting her, there was just a hunted boy who always found himself threatened by a Muggleborn. And it really hurt her, not realizing it before. Now it was somehow easier to understand his way of acting towards her.

How would he have been like if those instilled prejudices hadn't existed? Would they have hated each other? She was beginning to doubt it seriously...

Thus they remained an immeasurable time, recognizing; as if that were the first time they really saw each other, but also as if they had always known. As if after a long time of darkness, a light was turned on for the first time that allowed them to look like they truly were.

The music changed again, and Draco instinctively extended his hand, inviting her to dance.

She hesitated. Was he inviting her to dance, for real? Was Draco Malfoy inviting her, Hermione Granger, to dance like they were old friends? The world was turning upside down!

She was about to say no, of course not. She really tried to articulate that resounding not from the bottom of her entrails. But it was as if her body instinctively came to life. She surprised herself by extending her hand to accept his invitation. It was surreal... What the hell was happening to her?

Draco smirked and led her to the dance floor. She seemed to tremble as she walked beside him slowly, almost reluctantly. Without letting go of her hand, he turned her gently once, before taking her waist firmly and drags her closer to him. She was disturbed, visibly altered by that closeness; her cheeks turned a vivid garnet tone when she felt the touch of his hand. Finally, with a trembling gesture she took him by his shoulder and began to move to the rhythm of the music.

Hermione couldn't find meaning to the feelings emerging in her body, in her skin; she should be running to get away from him, but being totally honest to herself, she didn't feel bad... at all. She was no longer a child, she decided; after all, perhaps that man could deserve a second chance. In the end, he was really trying to show her that he had changed. She will let it be... Whatever it was.

The music kept changing gradually, but they maintained their own rhythm, completely oblivious of their surroundings. Both were staring into each other's eyes, without any cover or concealment, looking themselves as they had never done before in their lives. With full awareness of what they were doing, without any internal recrimination.

Draco was seized by a peace that was beyond what he could ever imagined. He had her in his arms and it was as if she had always belonged to them.

He looked into her eyes and began to understand the reason why he had spent so many lives by her side. That electric feeling ran through his spine and extended beyond his nerves, almost as if it wanted to leave his body and reach hers. He felt so complete; it was as if his entire life had waited for that moment. He felt damn good, how had it happened?

Draco released her hand and took her by the waist, spinning her once in the air and then leaving her on the floor again. Hermione, taken by surprise, clung to his neck as he slid her back to the floor; she hugged him until they were just a couple inches apart.

That magnetism that she had already felt in his presence began to urge her to move towards his face, to his lips; while her eyes remained anchored on his.

Suddenly something happened; an image of them dancing, blurred and ambiguous, settled in her mind as if she had done it before, despite being sure that she had never danced with Draco in her life. That vision was accompanied by a very peculiar feeling of tightness on her chest, which left her momentarily frozen in her place. She got scared.

Draco looked at her questioningly, stopping their dance.

"Is everything alright?"

Hermione pull round, still with that strange sensation installed in her chest. Was that some daydream?

"Yes..." She shook her head as affirmation. "I'm sorry. I don't feel quite right, I'd rather sit down for a moment."

Draco walked her back to their table, wondering what had happened. He had felt like in trance a couple of seconds ago, and he could swear that she was beginning to move towards him before abruptly stopping.

What had that been, that familiarity feeling? Hermione's heart was beating at an unnatural rate, bringing more oxygen to her brain, clearing her mind... She was sure that if she hadn't stopped, she would have kissed Malfoy. What the hell?!

She remembered the fortuneteller again, and her strange omen. Now she was convinced that the lady had talked about him, about Malfoy. But that only got her analytical mind to work at a dizzying pace.

"Malfoy, why did you go in search for me?" There had to be an explanation...

"Because I wanted to meet you Granger, I had already told you."

"Yes, you told me; what's not clear is why you want to meet me." Hermione approached him across the table, waiting for an answer that this time he wouldn't be able to avoid. "Why did you get interested out of nothing for me, Draco Malfoy? What was the reason of your sudden appearing at my door?"

He felt cornered by her questions, the demand in her voice. He couldn't explain his sudden presence without revealing the meaning behind his investigations or without putting his work on risk... Besides that it seemed damn cheesy to talk about reincarnations and shared lives to his former school rival.

But, if he didn't answer her question, he was convinced she would leave. And now he was sure he didn't want her to leave... So what could he do?


	5. Nightmares

**DISCLAIMER: THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY BELONG TO THE WONDERFUL J. K. ROWLING, AS IS THE UNIVERSE IN WHICH THE STORY IS DEVELOPED.**

_A/N: Hey guys, thanks for reading so far. This chapter has been checked by Elthanin Adara Black, so I hope you find it better writed! Thanks for your follows and comments. See you soon!_

.

**Fate's Trap**

Chapter 5. Nightmares

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She walked down the aisle, turning from one side other as if she were an Azkaban fugitive. She meandered her way into her office, avoiding the crowded places. She didn't want to talk to anybody. She didn't want to see anyone. She didn't want that anyone could notice the reddish on her eyes or the huge dark circles that evidenced her current mood.

Hermione felt so bad; so guilty for her behavior and childish impulsive reaction. For jilt him that way...

That Friday she had waited anxiously for Malfoy's answer, trying by all means to understand the logical reason behind his appearance at her door, fulfilling that fortuneteller's prophecy. It hurt her so much not to get a plausible answer from him that she preferred to get out of there, leaving Draco sitting alone with a visibly disturbed face gesture.

Hermione entered her office and closed the door behind her. She ran the blinds of the hall's window and called her assistant so that no one bothered her, for whatever reason; all she wanted now was to think.

The memory of that last conversation hadn't left her alone the entire weekend.

"Why did you get interested out of nothing for me, Draco Malfoy? What was the reason of your sudden appearing at my door?"

He delay the answer. She could clearly see he was trying to find an answer, or at least trying to elaborate a convincing lie as response. In the end, however, he looked at her questioningly, changing his expression into a serious one.

"And why is that so important Granger? What difference does it make to you?"

She knew the real reason behind her determination to know his answer: that strange fortuneteller, and her fateful words she couldn't get rid of. But Hermione couldn't use that argument as a valid reason. Even herself didn't believe in nonsense as fortunetelling; and now, she would use it as a compelling reason? Of course no...

"Because I want to understand, Malfoy. I need to know why you went on my search after so long. I don't understand your sudden interest." The tone of her voice rise, prey of the emotions stuck in her chest. "You came to apologize me after ten years without the slightest contact, to tell me that you want to know me, apparently forgetting that we always hate each one other. Why?"

"I had actually decided it about two weeks ago, but it took me a while to find a way to locate you.

"After ten years," she completely ignore his comment, "out of the sudden you wake up saying: Oh my, I think I was too rude with Granger when we were at school, I will apologize her and incidentally invite her to hang out. Does that even make any sense?

"It doesn't, I know. It doesn't have any sense, I can relate."

"Then give it some sense!" she screamed.

A couple sitting at a table away turned to sneak up at them. Hermione took a deep breath trying to calm her emotions.

"I can't tell you, Granger. I can't, okay? Isn't enough for you that I done it? Why do you insist on finding logic into everything?"

Hermione got up from her seat, resentful, and took her coat and bag.

"Because I simply can't conceive your attitude change towards me as something arbitrary."

Draco took her wrist trying to keep her from leaving.

"It's not arbitrary, okay." The tone of his voice was still low, but the shade had changed. Now he was clearly pissed off. "Neither it's that was precisely you the first and only person whom I ever apologize for my yesteryear actions." He looked into her eyes, trying to bury inside his badly hurt pride. "Yes, it's true there are reasons that led me to decide approaching you, but I don't think it's necessary for you to know them in order to start over again. You don't have to know everything all the time!"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears of anger and impotence. She simply couldn't conceive that by fate's will he had come to her -at that precise moment- to fulfill a stupid muggle fair's prophecy that she didn't want to know in first place.

Why does she have to start doubting her beliefs? She was the one who take the reins of her life, not fate; not that stupid dice game, gambling into her life since before she was born.

It wasn't fair; it wasn't logical! It was not about trying to know everything, as he had claimed; she simply wanted to understand why he had approached her. Fuck destiny, there had to be compelling reasons, but he insisted on not saying them. What does he have to hide? Was he just trying to play with her?

She felt her blood boil in her veins, gathering all the frustration, anger and doubts inside her from that moment. She was really upset, very annoyed; with him and his silence, with herself and her incipient feelings out of place, but above all with the damn nosy old lady and her unwanted chatter.

And that courage made her leave.

Even in spite of the pain, almost physical and inexplicable, she felt when she abruptly removed her hand from his grip. Even though she felt her breath leave his chest when she saw the disappointment dulling his gray eyes, even though she regretted her outburst the same moment he stepped on Diagon Alley's cobbled floor and disappeared to her apartment... And even now, she was reproaching her conduct in the privacy of her office.

She shouldn't have left.

The truth was that despite her constant denial, she had finally discovered she really wanted to know Draco Malfoy... for the first time in her life.

With the little time she had share with him, she discovered a really intriguing person who overwhelmed her. He had made her feel things she had never felt before with anyone. And she had set him aside because of her pride, cutting off any chance.

Well. Now it would be her turn to look for him... to find him.

She couldn't let herself rationalize it, not this time; because there were thousands of logical reasons why it was better for her to leave things that way, pretend it had never happened and stop thinking about him. But deep inside her she knew that looking for him was the right thing to do. Not because some old lady had told her, but because she felt inside her that it was what she should do.

The rushed beat of her heart couldn't be wrong.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo  
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He couldn't concentrate. As much as he tried to stop thinking about her and her abrupt withdrawal, he found himself recalling that hurt and proud look.

It didn't matter how much he tried, it didn't matter he put his own pride aside and tried to stop her. She had gone...

Why when, for once in his life, he tried to do things right, everything have to go so damn wrong?

He tried to do the right thing, fuck sake. He tried to say as much as he could without breaking his profession rules, without compromising his research. Why did she have to insist on know everything? She never ceased to be an insufferable know-it-all after all.

What would have happened if he had told her? He could never know which reaction would have her had; most likely she would have start an endless speech about how it was impossible for them to be somehow destined to be together. He could even imagine her skepticism against such argument.

Of course, if he hadn't found it himself, he wouldn't believe it possible either.

But what did that woman want from him? She wants him to arrive with all the research in his arms, in order to be able to justify point by point and life after life the reason why they should be together? On second thought, that didn't sound far-fetched speaking about Hermione Granger. It might even be necessary for him to write a detailed three feet long essay, with every reasons listed in order of importance, to justify why it was reasonable to try to get to know each other.

Draco threw down the parchment he was working on in a fit of helplessness.

He tried, he really did. But maybe it was too late; the differences between them had created an insurmountable chasm. She distrusted him, and despite all the reasons he had given her to try to amend his old behavior, his past would always hover over him... And if she wasn't able to give him a try without forgiving what he had done before, then there was nothing to try that could change her mind.

She didn't trust him, and he couldn't give her nothing more. He was Draco Malfoy and he couldn't change who he had been.

Perhaps after all, the cycle of their lives together had broken in this one, from the very moment that fate decided to put them in two diametrically opposed positions.

Damn destiny and its irony, which had made them rivals due to circumstances neither of them could control. And everything would have been fine, he could have continued perfectly with his life as before. But of course, the damn fate had once again played fool on him, showing only a glimpse of what could have been; making him have hope, making him believe he could aspire to that happiness, just to send him back to reality with a single blow: it was impossible that they were together.

He opened Hermione Granger's file, and looked back at Astrid Renaldi's painting, with that permanently sad look on her eyes.

Why did he keep contemplating her?

He angrily closed the file and rose from his desk. He couldn't do anything more...

Fuck fate, and its stupid evidence that they both had been together since their first appearance on earth. Nothing was forever, right? Everything had a beginning and an end; and this life was the end for them. It had been the end since the first moment they both opened their eyes in this life. She would never forgive him. He would never beg again to her for an opportunity.

Let's see what fate could do against his own pride and Granger's logic.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo  
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That night, for the fourth time in a row, she couldn't get to sleep.

She woke up again and again, in the middle of the night, containing the tears gathered in her eyes.

What was happening to her?

She remained all night mired in an intermittent sleeper, beset by strange and inexplicable dreams that were constantly repeated, like unrelated film fragments. She couldn't understand what the hell her subconscious was trying to play.

She could only remember scraps, small pieces of information. However, the feeling of pain and anguish was still installed in her chest, as vivid in her sleep as now already awaken. It was as if someone had torn her chest with a red-hot knife, she had never felt that kind of pain in her entire life... Even Bellatrix's torture couldn't be compared.

There was this man, a very sick man; fetid black spots permeated the entire place, lit only by a half-consumed candle. The place was depressing, and the man was clearly about to die, but she remained there, beside him, refreshing the boiling face with a damp cloth.

He was a young man, surely he wasn't more than 34 years old, but his face was so decrepit that it was impossible to guess his features. The image began to blur in her mind, but those eyes, sunk in their basins to the point of looking like a corpse, looked at her tenderly. Even in spite of his terrible appearance, it could be guessed that they had been a pair of really beautiful eyes, that him had been handsome... She knew, as only in dreams can know, that she knew him, even in spite of never seen that face before.

"Stop doing this, love." Murmured the man in a scratchy voice, barely audible. "It's unavoidable."

"Shhh. Don't talk" she replied, also in a whisper, as she accommodated a brown wet lock that clung to his forehead. "You know I'm not going to leave you. I'll be here with you."

"You must go, Astrid. They're behind you... Think of the children. Please, my beloved, run away."

She had begun to cry in silence.

"I have the house protected. They won't find me here, not at least until, not until..." She couldn't finish talking. She collapsed in the man's chest and began to cry inconsolably. The man, making a superb effort, managed to put his hand on her hair and stroked it gently.

"You are strong, my beloved Astrid. I know you will get over it."

"I can't, Franco, how could I live without you?"

"You will, because you have to. Because you are the strongest, smartest and most tenacious woman I ever knew, and because you promised me."

"No..." she sobbed.

"This isn't the end, my love. A love like ours knows no end... We will be together once again; in another place, at another time, and time will not stand between us again."

"I love you Franco... I love you so much that it's impossible to describe. I can't imagine my life without you by my side; I can't conceive it anymore if you'll no longer be here with me."

A coughing attacked the man, who immediately began to emanate blackish blood from his mouth. She, with her face bathed in tears, summoned some clean water in a basin, soaked a rag, and removed the remains of blood from the man's face.

Hermione could see how life was gradually fading away from him. As if with each breath, he had a little less strength, a little less energy.

"Don't leave me, my love. Don't leave me alone..."

"I will never go Astrid. I will be by your side every day... for ever. You are the love of my life."

"And you are the love of my soul" she said as she caress his face. That face...

Why was that face so familiar? His lucid mind was trying to impose a name that didn't fit him, that wasn't his. But she, that woman whom she personified in her dream, did not know that strange name. His name was Franco, Franco Messina...

Everything began to become weird, with a nuance that intermingled the real and the unreal, and she start to become aware of who she was, while still contemplating how that man breathed his last breath; pain crowded her chest, tears dampened her eyes...

"Franco!" She scream; but she was no longer asleep. She had screamed in her bed, as she stood up clenching her chest with a hand in fist, and gasping uncontrollably. Her face was pearled in sweat, and tears sliding down her cheeks.

It took a while to Hermione to understand everything had been a dream; and besides, it wasn't the first time that had happened to her... She had had other nightmares, many others. Different dreams which had something in common despite having different people in them, in different situations and places. They all left her with the same oppression feeling in her chest, even if the dream wasn't heartbreaking, but happy. She always woke up feeling as if she had been split in half, as if a piece of her soul had been torn away from her.

And everyone had a particular similarity: every time she tried to remember them, already calmed and with her emotions under control, the dream blurred, and she began to forget the face of the person with whom she had dreamed; and the more she tried to remember, to contemplate again the features of those men who appeared in her dreams, the more they began to vanish, to be replaced with another face...

Why? Why was her subconscious playing so dirty with her?

She had already assumed it, okay? She was trying her best to locate Malfoy, but none of her acquaintances knew anything about him... What was the need to torture her like this? She was going to find him!

But please, let her mind stop doing this to her. Please, stop putting Draco Malfoy's face on each one of the men she dreamed...

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo  
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Another night without sleep and she was sure would end up driving crazy. She knew the remedy would be seeing Malfoy again, but since he was impossible to track, she was beginning to seriously consider visiting a Muggle psychologist...

Because who with a sane mind could feel this way for someone like Malfoy? No; that was inaccurate, she was sure that feeling like this for him was something perfectly logical, as long as it wasn't her!

He had bothered her throughout her childhood and part of her youth, not to mention his death eater status. Well, all right, he was compelled, and just a boy when it happened; after thinking carefully she decided that despite all she could understand it.

But that wasn't the only obstacle in her insane sentimentality: She hadn't heard from him in ten years. Ten years! In all that time he almost never crossed her mind. The few occasions she had seen him, had been a distance glimpse; they didn't exchanged even a look.

Ok, all right, it was true that on those occasions she had managed to sneak some tiny appreciative thought about how well the years had sat him. But for Merlin's beard, she wasn't that superficial... She had always detected a certain hidden allure in him, a thought she keep buried six feet under her mind. But she never really felt any interest in him, how could she? He had been the greatest scumbag in the universe with her.

The real problem was his abrupt appearance at her home, and that stupid association with the fortuneteller's hand reading. That had been the start, when everything began to fall apart. All those awkward feelings toward him, her accelerated beating rate when she thought about him, the conscious way she perceived his proximity... She was driving crazy.

Not to mention the way he insistently appeared in her dreams. She had only seen him twice; who in of sound mind felt that way for someone she knew just for a couple of hours? Because it was clear to her that everything before that visit didn't really count. That stupid besetting feeling was exclusively based on those two occasions that had interact, for the first time in their lives, as civilized people. Only when she had been able to see a Malfoy who didn't distil prejudice through each one pore of his skin.

She called for the elevator, hoping it was empty. She usually didn't arrive so early at her office, but the lack of sleep and the unwilling to run into anyone had made her arrive almost an hour before.

She couldn't get him out of her head, and now, to make things worse, she was dreaming him... Not stupid childish dreams, but true complex love and heartbreak stories; tragic, romantic, impossible... there was an entire repertoire. When had she become so creative?

Feel something for Malfoy... she giggled nervously just by thinking about it... She really had to get the address of a good mind Healer.

Malfoy's face appeared everywhere: in her thoughts, in her memories, in her dreams, in her way to the elevator...

She froze.

"Granger." She received his distant greeting as a blow to her chest, while he came out the elevator she had been waiting for.

"Malfoy?" Her voice was broken. "What are you doing here?"

"Leaving work. Have a good day" and without further ado, he withdrew.

Se had no time to react when he had already disappeared behind one of the floo chimneys. And she had stayed there, stupidly frozen.

She looked for him six days, and never came to remembered she had seen him there before; how stupid!. Even worse, when she had him right in front of her, she couldn't move a single muscle.

She climbed into the elevator, and when she finally reached her office her thoughts had cleared and an idea began to form in her mind. If he was a Magic Healer, and he also did research, there were very few places in the Ministry where he could work.

She had to wait almost an hour for her assistant's arrive, but as soon as she appeared through her door she jumped over her in desperation.

"I need you to get me some information, Emily; is urgent... I want you to get me the name of all the Ministry's Unspeakables"

"B-b-but..." stammered the girl, "that's strictly confidential, Miss Granger."

Hermione took her by the shoulders "But I trust your abilities Emily, you have never failed me before"

Emily, with eyes wide open, nodded and left her boss's office, leaving her remarkable upset.

Better not to send her those memorandums today...


	6. The Intruder

**DISCLAIMER: THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY BELONG TO THE WONDERFUL J. K. ROWLING, AS IS THE UNIVERSE IN WHICH THE STORY IS DEVELOPED.**

_A/N: Hello guys! I'm trying to translate as fast as I could to put this story even-steven with the spanish one. Of course, it's only possible because my beta's doing a great job! Thanks Eltanin Adhara Black for all your support!_

_And of course, thank you for reading, commenting and following the story. Hope you enjoy this chap. XO_

.

**Fate's Trap**

Chapter 6. The intruder

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Hermione raised the possibility of ignore the information her assistant got after an entire arduous day of research -and probably more than one persuasion bordering illegal ground-. But after resorting every muggle and magical method to contact Malfoy, she didn't have more alternatives.

After several unsuccessful attempts she had deduced that the Unspeakables had some sort of anti-tracking charm that disoriented the owls. Not even interdepartmental memos could reach the offices inside the Department of Mysteries.

They were definitely paranoids, and she wanted to assume that it was partly because the amount of misfortunes the Unspeakables had had through the entire history of the Department. Although, apparently they hadn't activated any additional protection charms in that area, since she had been able to sneak in the circular hall without major setbacks. Hermione supposed that regardless that, they still relied their trust on the current disorientation mechanism. That was a mistake: she had swiped their security once; and this second time she had expected some modifications in the department security spells, which evidently hadn't happened.

That afternoon Hermione had waited for the end of working day and everyone had left the Ministry to sneak down, and passed through the door without being seen; for the second time in her life. Someone had to talk to the manager, that was a fact.

One of those doors had to be the one leading to the Unspeakables' offices.

She could perfectly remember the hall's operation and tried her luck with the first door on her right. No, that wasn't. She closed the door and discreetly marked it to avoid losing it at the chamber's twirl. Once the room stopped, she tried with the next door.

On her third attempt, she found a long corridor with a bunch of secondary doors, interspersed over the entire length of the walls. Venturing, she crossed the threshold and walked slowly into the corridor, reading the inscriptions engraved on the doors. It was an office aisle. She had found it!

She was almost sure that Malfoy wouldn't be in his office at that time, but her intention was to find out some way to contact him in order to fix the strophic she created... She hoped to find his current address or something like that; but at this point, any kind of info would be welcome.

That had to be his door: D. M. There was no one else with those initials on her assistant's list.

She attempt to open the door and surprised she discover it wasn't locked. With a triumph gesture she ajar and soberly peeked, checking if the room was indeed empty.

And it was.

She sneaked, closing the door behind her, and dumbfounded look the office's breadth; it was huge.

There was a desk dominating the center of the room. Hermione noticed the reigning scrupulous order and couldn't help smiling, it was always nice to find someone as tidy as herself.

A huge table, placed at the end of the office, was overflowing with books and old-looking parchment; it was flanked by two bookshelves bursting with documents too. Some of those books looked unique. Her hands itched with anxiety, just by thinking about reading those copies. But no, she wasn't come to read books, no matter how old and tempting they seemed.

She hurried to the desk, while her eyes still recognizing the place. There was a huge wallpaper on the longest office's wall, full of scribbles and inscriptions. What a curious way to decorate an office... What would those engravings mean?

Ignoring her curiosity about the wall, she rushed to approach the desk urgently. She opened a couple of drawers and checked through the scrolls, in case she could found any interesting document, but there were only a few notes she couldn't understand and some old photographs she didn't stop to watch. Why wizards didn't use service bills as muggles did? It would be easier to find Malfoy if he had a water bill to reach... Or if the owls weren't lost on the way to his home, as they had been doing all week.

Hermione looked back at the wall, tempted to take a quick glance. Ultimately the curiosity won, so nibbling her lower lip -knowing she was about to mischief-, she approach to find out if those scribbles were words, as she supposed; and they were... It was an endless amount of names, all written in golden inked calligraphy, and linked together by lines across every name, connecting them in the most complex possible ways.

She watched the tapestry, looking through its entire length. That dystopia created a really beautiful effect when observed from certain distance. She began to read some random names as she walked the length of the wall, stroking with one finger along her way.

One of the names caught her attention as she walked, and returned the couple of steps she had taken to look at it again: Ignacio Solar. It sounded like something familiar...

She noted that that name had been draw with a thick line at each end, and a pair of thinner parallel lines connected it with another name. She went through that double path and found a woman's name: Elena Santana.

The skin of her arms bristled. She knew that name but, from where?

She kept following the thick straight line off one end of that other name until she reached a third one, also a woman: Galya Petrova. Hermione frowned; she felt her pulse speed up beating in her temples. It was linked to the name of Aleksei Ivanovich by a double parallel union; but it was not continuous, but dotted.

If she remembers correctly, that parallel union was the way to unite couples in family trees. At least in the Black's one was handled like that, although she had never seen a dotted line on it.

She frantically began to follow the names connected all along the wall. Pietro Lombardi joined to Antares Zarggoh; then Pria Nayar, who had no parallel union. Gerda Ragnardóttir, Astrid Renaldi. With each name she read, her pulse beat faster and faster; as impossible as it seemed she felt that each one of those names was familiar to her. She toured the double line across the last woman's name until she reached the name of Franco Messina.

Hermione felt her soul dropping at her feet, leaving iced her entire body.

She did remember that last name; he was the sick man, the one of her dreams.

It couldn't be a coincidence, that was ridiculous... What was happening?

She turned to the door, full nervousness, and found that it was still closed. One part of her told that she should leave immediately, but the other part –much more persistent- urged her to continue reading that wall. That there was something she had to know.

She had dreamed of those people's names, right? If she twisted the ethically acceptable a bit, she could fool herself by saying she had right to continue reading.

She retrace her steps until reaching Elena Santana again, and now followed the opposite path until she came to Mary Gray, joined with Nicolas Sanders.

She felt her legs like rubber; she had dreamed those names, all those people during these last days. How was that possible? Why were they connected and why had she dreamed them?

She followed Nicholas Sanders's last line with a fateful feeling in her chest, which confirmed by reading the name Draco Malfoy. She looked for the double connection, but he didn't have any; so she hastily came back along the same route, now to travel Mary Gray's path with her heart beat soaring.

She backed away scared, stunned. Hermione felt her breath shorted and held her chest with both hands, trying to normalize her breathing.

Her name, Hermione Jane Granger, was there. Written clearly; shouting something she didn't quite understand but began to make perfect sense.

Suddenly she felt like running out of there, away for all of this; not mattering where, but disappearing from this place. She twirled to the exit, but stopped, because the door was obstructed.

Draco Malfoy staring at her, his face unflappable but his eyes darken with intensity. He had one of his shoulders leaning against the doorframe and his arms firmly crossed over his chest.

Hermione could only gulp and look back to him.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

She trembled, couldn't articulate any word, her senses had exacerbated and her mind was still trying to put together what she had just found... The worst thing could ever happen to her was him, discovering her snooping his things.

Because now, looking into his eyes, that indescribable mixture of emotions emerged once again, increasing the shame she was feeling.

"Granger, explain yourself once and for all, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Malfoy, I..." Her hands wandered nervously between her hair and the hem of her shirt, unable to control the movement, and that steely gray gaze didn't helped much. It seemed he was about to slaughter her with his sharp look. "I regretted I left that day, but I couldn't find any way to contact you."

"And just occurs to you to sneak into the Department of Mysteries, as if you were trying to get into the Leaky Cauldron?" A small irony laugh escaped from his lips, breaking his hitherto rigid countenance. "Well Granger, I definitely can't say that something like that surprises me if it's coming from you... Fuck, it would really have been good for you not hang out that much with Potter."

How long he had been standing there? She hoped that only a short time, but how much had he seen? Would he have discovered her when she found her name on the wall? She didn't want to start asking questions without thinking about it first, because she still couldn't understand her discovering. She was still breath faltering and trying by all means to calm down, in order to avoid revealing her current hysteria state.

Despite all, she knew that if she began to question him about the wall and the meaning of those connections, Draco would get angriest, making everything much more difficult. He had made a clear statement; his investigation was private, and his office a restricted area. And she manages to get into the dragon's jaws by her own will.

However, he didn't know she already knew those names on his wall, and the chances to find her own name in that 60ft intricate tapestry were practically nil... It was impossible for him to find out how much she really knew; so she decided to avoid that issue, hoping Malfoy won't discover her scam.

"I'll ask you again." Malfoy seemed about to lose his temper. "What are you doing in my office, Granger? Because for sure my address will not appear on that wall you're inspecting."

"I know, Malfoy; is just... I took a look at your desk but didn't find anything that help, and I was about to leave but then I…" sweet Merlin, why did she get so nervous while looking his eyes? she had to calm down if she pretended to remain unnoticed "I got entertained with the wall. It that a family tree, right?"

His eyes narrowed with suspicious and glance her calculatingly. Would she have seen something that reveals his investigation? Something had her upset, although he didn't fully understand what it could be: perhaps was only the illegality of her intrusion. The real problem would have been if she found the bottom table's files, which were the most compromising. He doubted she could discover anything just by looking at his wall's diagram. A bunch of names without apparent relationship didn't depict an actual problem, not even with Granger's brilliant mind on charge.

"Something like that" he manage to answer. "But I'm not going to explain you its meaning. As I told you, it's confidential."

Hermione's heart was about to get out of her chest; it would fly away at any moment. If she didn't get out there she would start hyperventilating.

"I'm sorry for getting my mind in your business, Malfoy; I just wanted to find a way to contact you... Nevermind, I'm leaving."

She walked towards the door, but Draco took her arm to stop her. Her whole body trembled when he touch her.

"What did you want to tell me, Granger? You come to find a way to contact me and now I'm here you just want to leave."

Hermione turned to face him, biting her lip, and had to hold her breath as she realized his closeness. He was just a span away, his steel gray electric eyes watching her with doubt.

"I... I just wanted to..." She felt absorbed again by the energy surrounding them, she couldn't take her eyes away off him; his eyes, his lips... she shuddered. "I just wanted to tell you I'm so sorry to left that way."

"Just that?" Draco couldn't stop looking her. Her eyes were like magnet attracting him, as if she were the hole universe's gravitational center. He had already forgotten his irritation, and decided not to see her again. All the anger he gather those days had melted with the warmth of her hazel eyes. By being that close to her was almost painful to try to pull away, because his entire body screamed for closeness.

"Yes," Hermione replied, as she tried to take again the reins of her body, which determined to act on its own. Inch by inch the distance between them was shortening. All her will was draining from her body.

Her breath brushed his mouth like a caress. He couldn't hold back much longer; not if she kept approaching like this, if she continued to look at him that way.

"Then tell me Granger, why you go into so much trouble for me?" His eyes glisten as malleable metal, almost liquid, and she submerged into its depth. Her rational judgment had shifted to the corners of her mind, leaving her exposed and unprotected, at totally mercy of her body's instincts.

"I can't explain, Malfoy." Hermione was lost; condemned and inevitably lost, and there was nothing she could do about it. She whispered, mumbling the words that slipped out her thoughts. "All I know is I can't get away from you."

Then she toured the last gap between their lips and closed her eyes to kiss him.

In a single second, the entire universe collapsed in the tiny space between its lips, only to re-expand vertiginously at first touch, like a shockwave. The world's order broke when he took her by the waist to bring her closer to his body, and recompose in a whole new sense when she parted her lips. He took her mouth completely, as if had always belonged to him.

Time lost its meaning, submerged in the cadence's movement of their mouths, and space ceased its existence fused in that embrace.

He slowly wandered the extension of her waist, waking up every nerve of her skin, turning each pore into a blossoming bud of sensations. She took him by the neck, pulling him gently forward to get him even closer.

It felt so good; it was so perfect and total, as if there wasn't any other possibility than that. As if every second of her life had waited for that contact. Her arms weren't enough to encompass, still submerged between his lips, her body wasn't enough to feel his proximity and warmth. It was as if her own soul wanted to get out her body and merge completely with his.

But sooner or later her reasoning had to return, and too soon she began to realize reality.

Through her mind a procession of her last days dreams began to appear, gradually returning her to her sense. Reminding her who she was, making her aware of what she was doing... With who she was doing it.

Hermione opened her eyes and backed away in horror. What the hell did she just do? She watched Malfoy, who looked clearly as confused as her with her behavior.

She kissed him, then stepped back... What the hell was wrong with her?

Hermione wanted to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. She put one trembling hand over her lips and backed away. One step, another... Before Draco could do or say something, Hermione ran out of Malfoy's office, delved into Department of Mysteries' darkness.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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He still had Granger lips' taste impregnated on his own ones when she ran away.

He seriously wondered if he had done the right thing by deciding to approach her; because for Merlin's sake, she was about to undo him with her ups and downs. She approached and moved away like a wave breaking on the coast, sweeping everything on its path. And with every outburst she left him bewildered.

Now, he discovered her in his office, prowling his investigation as if it belonged to her. What recklessness... He was pissed off, enraged; but also intrigued. How much had she found there? He kept in his memory the exact spot where he discovered her; exactly in the place he was standing right now. He looks from that position the name written by his own hand: Hermione Jean Granger.

She had discovered her name; there was no doubt about that. How much more would she have seen? And how much would be able to figure out that little shrewd head of hers? He wished he had come back sooner, to find out how long she really had been snooping his tapestry.

But above all he wondered what would happen if she found out its meaning. How would she react? Draco was sure that someone as logical as Granger wouldn't believe in such thing as fate. Would she be able to fight it?

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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Hermione left Malfoy's office so fast that she didn't stop to think which direction she should take. Her heart still didn't return a healthy rate, and her mind was unable to formulate a coherent thread of thought. The only thing she knew was that she had to get away from Malfoy. She still could felt a tickle on her lips, and her blood boiling within her veins as she remembered that damn kiss. She trembled while she wandered down the aisle, which seemed much longer than she could remember.

She wanted to stop thinking about that kiss. She needed to think about something that would give sense to all this... For example, what damn meaning those names she discovered in Malfoy's office had? Why did her name seem somehow related to his? And, to make things even worse, what did all those names -that were the same ones she had been dreaming- means?

She had dreamed with all that people, she had lived in a way what those women had lived with those men... She would never have believed that such thing was possible; but lately, things that defied any logic had been happening to her.

Hermione turned that tough around and wondered the same thing over and over again. Which was the connection? Was she going crazy?

The thread of her thoughts began to slither along an unusual path, trying to connect her dreams with Malfoy's investigation and the fortuneteller's words...

All those events isolated were nothing but random, and she would never have been able to find a connection between them, not beyond the feeling they caused in her.

But after seeing all those names connected on Draco's wall, everything changed. Those people weren't connected only as couples, but also from one to another, carrying some kind of chronological order that clearly wasn't blood lineage. And one path end up leading on her, as the other one on Malfoy.

Could it be that she had been all those women? What nonsense...

"_He was your past, beyond the barriers of your understanding of time; and it would be in your hands to let him be part of your future, at least within this life. Destiny doesn't concern about mortal boundaries."_

"_He is part of your fate since you were born. He is your complement, your opposite... And therefore, he is what you need the most."_

There she had everything: dreams, investigation and prophecy.

Everything pointing to the same direction: the past.

Malfoy had discovered something, so he decide to approached her... He was researching the origin of muggleborns' magic genetically, but he couldn't determine it; so then he began to investigate in the past.

Hermione thought she had finally discovered what Malfoy's investigation was about.

In her dreams, all the women were witches; all of them possessed magic. Something besides genetics linked them.

"_At least within this life"_

Those prophetic words echoed her mind. _This life_, as if it wasn't the only one...

She refused to mentally pronounce the word; but there it was, buzzing in the corners of her mind as if want to challenge her. Reincarnation.

She shook her head trying to scare away those absurd ideas when she suddenly stopped. How long had she been walking without a stop? Where was the exit?

Hermione was so immersed in her thoughts she didn't know when she lost her way. Now she had no idea where she was.

Well, she did know something.

She was alone and lost in the damn Department of Mysteries.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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Draco was sitting at his desk, his face between his hands, leaning with his elbows on a pile of documents he knew he should be cataloging, but had neither the will nor the strength to classify.

Would he see her again, or by fleeing that way from his office she had put an end to everything they were starting to experience?

Crap. Surely he would never hear about her again.

He punched his desk, making his papers fly away and scatter all over the floor.

Then he sensed it, something was buzzing in his robes pocket; his wand.

The sensor they had activated years ago, when someone without authorization broke into the Department's restricted chambers.

"Granger!"


	7. The Chamber

**DISCLAIMER: THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY BELONG TO THE WONDERFUL J. K. ROWLING, AS IS THE UNIVERSE IN WHICH THE STORY IS DEVELOPED.**

_A/N: Hello everybody! Thank you for keep the reading so far, I hope you find appealing the story, we'll get into subject soon. I´ll like to thank the amazing support of Eltanin Adhara Black, who's helping me beta this story. You're incredible. _

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**Fate's Trap**

Chapter 7. The Chamber

oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo

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She had completely lost track of the time passed since she left Malfoy's office until she found herself aimlessly wandering through that endless corridor. The circular room that would allow her to leave the Department was nowhere.

Hermione kept moving, but her intuition told her something was wrong. In all the time she had been walking along the corridor she had found nothing besides those same dark walls throughout her visual field, creating the most disturbing effect when they vanish in the darkness both height and length.

She couldn't even find Malfoy's office door to go back and ask for his help.

She took out her wand and conjured a Four-Point spell to help herself orient in that horrible place, but the wand only turned uncontrollably over her hand's palm without a stop. It was useless.

She was lost, how could that happen? A claustrophobia sensation overwhelm her, and she had to spend a couple more minutes, laying against the wall, to take a deep breath and try to calm down, telling to herself that the exit had to be somewhere around.

When she resumed her walk she noticed a sound accompanying her steps, and she recognized the characteristic thud of something being dragged. She stopped nervously and look in all directions, but nothing seemed to have changed. Hermione tried to contain the growing nervousness invading her, sharpening all her senses. She advanced a couple more steps, paying absolute attention to her surroundings and again perceived the same noise.

Before panicking, she decided the best thing to do in those cases was to think. The first thing occurred to her was to discard being trapped in some sort of labyrinth or loop that kept her walking in circles. She gripped her wand tightly and uttered a spell, marking with the tip a luminous X on the wall, and then resumed her walk.

Then everything made sense, because the signal she had marked on the wall began to move along, as if it were following her. She walk faster, without taking her eyes off the engraving and found astonished that no matter how fast or slow she moved, the wall inevitably continued to follow her.

With her wand still hold, she summoned a _finite incatatem_ with such strength her voice echoed all over the place. Immediately a noise like broken glass resounded, and the wall began to yield, gradually moving away from her, transforming the corridor until it looked like an increasingly wide room that ended up becoming a spacious hall with three doors.

They do have activated new anti-intrusions mechanisms after all.

Relieved by the hope of leaving her confinement, she went to the nearest door and opened it hurriedly, although she couldn't see anything inside, because she was only able to distinguish blackness there. Desperate to leave as soon as possible, she decided to cross the door, wishing with all her hopes that this would be the exit. Once she was inside could distinguish a Chamber she knew, she had been there before.

In front of her eyes a sort of amphitheater deployed, with a single element at its center, hovering several feet above the ground; an arch of stone, covered by a black veil that fluttered as if moved by the wind.

The Death Chamber, she recalled with a shiver. Sirius Black had died there long ago. Hermione had to gather all her courage to achieve move forward.

She walked as far as she could from that arch, which radiated such a solemn energy that instilled fear, and went out the opposite side door from where she had entered. When she crossed the threshold she found herself inside another chamber. For a moment she recalled the despair feeling of that fifth year night at Hogwarts. It had been so long, but she recognized immediately the shelves furrowing the whole room. All those racks full with small blue spheres, which she knew contained all the prophecies ever said. Hermione wondered if her own prophecy would also be in that place, but she could swear that a muggle fake prophecy wouldn't appeared in those records.

She continued her slow walking through the huge room, turning occasionally to look at the extension of a random bookshelf, as if waiting for something to caught her attention, but also trying not to give any importance to it... She should concentrate on getting out of there.

Hermione found a door at the end of the corridor and crossed it, entering another chamber. Damn maze, she had forgotten how difficult was to leave the Department of Mysteries once inside.

The third room was the Time chamber. Everything remained exactly the same as the last time she was there; well, except for the detail that everything was back in order, and there was no Death Eater head-trapped in a time loop. She felt a chill of horror as she remembered that surreal vision.

She opened the right opposite room's door she enter, but when she took a look she discovered it was the Brain chamber, and she didn't want to enter that place for anything in the world. The least thing she needed was being attacked by disgusting sticky brains in her attempt to escape... Hermione stepped back her steps, closing the door very well, and looked for another door through which she could leave. There was another door where the time-turners shelf was. She quickly walked toward to open and crossed it.

That last Chamber was unknown to her, and her gaze traveled the place appreciatively. It was rather small, completely white and aseptic, and had a kind of circular water mirror in the center, almost occupying the entire space available for walking. The circle was filled to the brim with a crystalline liquid in calm, and the silence in the place was absolute. She could almost hear the echo of her heartbeat. She paid attention to the water while looking for some way to cross the room and noticed that the liquid seemed to radiate some kind of flickering light arising from inside.

She took a cautious step, moved by curiosity, to find out the origin of that pulsing shine, and discovered something in the water that seemed to wave and swirl in a slow hypnotic cadence. She couldn't tell what it was, but if she had to describe it some way, she'd say they looked like smoke, like iridescent silvery dancing threads of smoke. And there were hundreds... thousands; all the water had a dancing appearance in its interior despite the surface keep in absolute calm.

She began to feel obnubilated, as if that pond called her in silence... She wanted to get a little closer, just a bit. She didn't want to think anymore, just to feel, and it felt good... so good...

Without taking her eyes off the water, Hermione continued advancing, until inadvertently, she rushed inside the pensieve.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo  
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Where the fuck had Granger gone?

The disorientation mechanism that helped keep intruders apart from the Department of Mysteries' Chambers had been broken, and she was nowhere.

Draco was looking for her among the Chambers, hoping she hadn't gotten into trouble; some of those rooms were extremely dangerous for those who didn't understand their operation. How does she have become so damn meddling?

After taking a last look at the Chamber of Time, he entered the Chamber of Memories, reproaching himself for not perform the cover-up spell when he left that room half an hour ago.

As soon as he crossed the door knew it: he didn't know how, but Granger had gotten into the pensieve. There was a dizzying black swirl inside the water, casting flashes and beams of light that strikingly reflected on every wall.

He had to get her out, there were centuries of memories deposited in that pensieve. He had had to train arduously to be able to gather information from the depths of that ancestral heap of memories. Granger would be lost, without doubt.

Draco didn't think it twice, the adrenaline made him act by impulse; he ventured directly into the center of the memories swirl with his heartbeat racing, in search of Granger. If he didn't rescue her, she could spend her entire life inside there...

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo  
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The world lost its meaning. Suddenly she didn't recognize up or down, submerged in a monochromatic vortex that made her feel dizzy. Among the blackness she could only perceive gleams surrounding her at unlikely speeds, plaguing her vision field with bright smudges, like shooting stars that furrow the sky.

She was floating... or flying? Hermione didn't know how to describe that; she felt weightless, drifting in that spiral. She didn't want to move, fearing to lose the inertia and fall into the void, but she didn't know what else could do; she had to get out of there.

And the sound. That was a cacophony of unintelligible mingled voices; she knew that were words, but couldn't recognize anything. The frequency of the sound was ringing in her ears like white noise, making her feel even more ethereal...

At some point she managed to realize that she had no perception of time, and felt alarmed. How had she got there? Where was she? How could she get out?

She extended her hand, trying to find some way to escape, and touched one of the beams of light surrounding her.

Then everything changed.

She felt absorbed by some kind of force that pulled her from her core, and plummeted...

She opened her eyes and found herself standing in what looked like an old street. The cobbled path was flanked by abandoned shops. Everywhere she looked there was only piles of garbage gathered at the corners, and doors and windows boarded up with wooden planks. The vision was depressing, and Hermione felt emptiness inside her. She looked around, amazed by the devastating panorama and found a person turning at the crossroads of two deserted streets. Hermione walked hurriedly but she was only able to see the man's back. She followed the stranger, hoping to reach him in order to ask where they were.

A woman who was walking toward them along that sidewalk, with her eyes lost on the road and a dirty kerchief covering her nose, became alarmed when she saw the man, and quickly crossed to the opposite sidewalk, rushing to avoid him. He continued his walk, without pay attention to that woman. In the houses of the road they passed, she could hear the sound of doors and windows slamming shut.

Hermione paid attention; most of the doors on the street bore a huge white painted X on them. She needed to ask that mysterious man what was going on...

Suddenly, she watched as the man stopped in front of the rickety door of what seemed like an abandoned house. Hermione hurried to finally reach him and surround to see him head-on, but backed away scared as where she should have found his face, was a frightening white mask that reminded her the face of a crow. The man seemed not to notice her horror outburst; he didn't even show signs of seeing someone at his side.

Hermione was still startle watching him when she heard a door open behind her, and the masked man entered the house without a word, passing right through Hermione.

What was happening?

Hermione, moved by curiosity, walked through the door and followed the man, who walked through the dark hall until reached a room at the back of the house. Upon entering, she could see the masked man approaching a dirty and seemingly putrid bed, where she could only see someone's legs laying loosely over the mattress.

The smell of that place was disgusting, with some kind of sweetened hue that caused her arcades.

The man backed away, revealing completely the body that was in bed, and could see an agonizing man in it. Everything became blurry; she wasn't able to see clearly the dying man's features.

It was as if everything surrounding her began to deteriorate. She rubbed her eyes unsuccessfully, trying to understand why she saw everything that way, but there was nothing bad with her eyes; it was the place, the whole memory was gradually vanishing.

Among the mists, she saw a silhouette entering the room, and she could deduced it belonged to a woman, because she heard a feminine note when she murmured an absent greeting to the masked man.

"He don't have much more time, ma'am. I would recommend that you leave here before presenting symptoms of the infection." The man's voice was muffled; she supposed that due to the mask he was wearing. It was frustrating not being able to see well.

Hermione heard the woman's sobs, and her heart collapsed at her palpable pain. "Is there anything else we can do, doctor?"

"Nothing, I'm sorry. Leave now, think about your children... What will they do if none of their parents get to pick them up?

"I can't leave him..." The woman broke into cry, and Hermione felt a silent tear roll down her cheek. "I will stay with him until the end..."

A horrible coughing attack was heard from the place where the dying man was.

Her vision grows less and less clear; at that point, she could only perceive smears, lights and shadows.

Then an increasingly intense glow caught her attention, a golden light that appeared where she assumed the woman with the dying man was.

Hermione approached, trying not to breathe the putrid smell, until she was so close that she could clearly see the line of golden light that had appeared, unlike the rest of her visual field, which remained completely out of focus.

The line of light was so sharp that it seemed palpable, solid. She approached her hand with hesitation and touched it with the tip of her forefinger.

The moment she touched the flare, everything disappeared becoming smoke, and momentarily plunged her it into an absolute blackness. Carried by her instinct, she clung firmly to the beam of light as if it were a rope.

Clamped in that beam, she began to see how images materialized in front of her eyes, in a sequence so fast it seemed to overlap. She could only perceived glimpses impossible to assimilate.

She felt terribly dizzy, so she decided to let go the beam again, falling in the middle of a cluster of smoke that dispersed until form a wooded land full with people. As soon as she could adapt her eyes to the new scene, she discovered that a battle was taking place there. The bodies of men and women collided in a bloody bloodbath. Terrified, she cringed into fetal position when a spear furrowed the space where she was.

She looked for her golden light beam, but it was a couple feet away, so she ran as fast as she could to reach it. Hermione arrived skidding to cling her salvation at the time the sky became obscured by a thousand arrows, the people who were in that area had neither the opportunity nor the instruments to safeguard themselves. At that moment she saw how a woman near the golden beam fell over a man beside her to protect him from the deadly attack. He screamed as the woman's body collapsed in his arms, three arrows nailed in her back. Horrified, Hermione clung with her whole soul to the beam, feeling an indescribable pain in her chest. Both, the couple as the battlefield, disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.

Hermione let go the beam again, appearing this time in a busy place with cheerful music. Posh vintage dressed couples danced to the beat, laughing and chatting joyfully. At their tables, some other guests ate, drink and interact together. It was a festive and joyful atmosphere.

Hermione still couldn't recover from the tearing pain in her chest, believing impossible to shape her emotions to the new cheerfully atmosphere. She looked around the place, trying to soak up that sense of collective bliss and figuring out what joyful event would it be. Then she could see that in the center of the dance floor a couple stood out the crowd because of the steamy white dress the woman wore. She danced embraced by a man in gala robes, clearly a wizard... She was in a wedding. To her surprise, the couple seemed to be surrounded by the golden beam of light that, for what seemed like so long, had guided her during her journey. What will that light beam could be?

She walked toward the newlyweds dodging dancing couples, despite not being necessary, because in any of the previous occasions she had been able to touch anything or anyone...

Hermione wanted to reach them, because they were so far away that she couldn't see their faces, and she was truly curious to discover their identity. Then she suddenly felt a couple arms holding firmly around her waist. She didn't have time to look who had been able to touch her, because she was impelled by that strong pull, taking her out of the wedding and immersing her for a moment in absolute darkness.

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oº°·●·°ºoº°·●·°ºo  
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She inhale a mouthful of air, trying to catch her breath, still keeping her eyes tightly closed. She put a hand on her head because of the stabbing pain she felt, and her fingers tangled in her hair. She was completely soaked, felt cold, and could feel that all her clothes were uncomfortably sticking to her body.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, trying to understand what had happened. She was lying on the floor, leaning on what seems like someone's lap. How weird; she looked up to meet a pair of silver eyes glancing her with a perfect mixture of annoy and worry.

Draco Malfoy, soaked from head to toe, dripping water down the strands of hair attached to his forehead, just a few inches away of Hermione's face. He snorted with relief when she awake.

"For fucking Merlin's beard, Granger ¡¿What the hell was you thinking?!


End file.
